Hide & Seek
by kharizzmatik
Summary: The night their lives were set to start was the night it all came to an abrupt end. Five simple words, "Let's play hide and seek", sparked a manhunt for Isabella Swan that has haunted Edward Cullen ever since. Back in Forks for the first time in over a decade, he has to face reality: he lost his soul mate. Is it too late to find her?
1. Prologue

**AN: This is just a little story I started working on, a plot bunny that annoyed the hell out of me until I humored it. As usual with my words, expect angst. A lot of angst. Chapters will be short and alternate between 2001 and present time. No promises on an update schedule because of the original stuff I'm working on (deadlines and all that jazz), but I'll try to update at least once a week (hopefully more).**

**Unbeta'ed, so any and all errors are mine.**

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**PROLOGUE**

**2001**

Thumping music poured from the white three-story house on Meadow Drive, the lone residence down a long dirt path. It cut through the dense Washington woods, winding deep into the otherwise uninhabited forest, isolating the Cullen family from the rest of the city of Forks. Esme and Carlisle Cullen had lived there for over two decades, but tonight their son Edward was the only one at home.

Well, him and dozens of others, anyway.

A party had been raging for hours, darkness shrouding most of the property as Edward and his friends took up residence in the backyard. Some sat on patio furniture, drinking and smoking, laughing and joking, while the bravest souls bared all and jumped into the pool. The mid-June air was warm, despite a constant breeze, but the water temperature dipped into the mid-50s at night.

Water splashed, girls shrieked, liquor flowed, and happiness reigned, as the graduating class of 2001 celebrated long-awaited endings and toasted 'new beginnings.' They were young and dumb, careless and reckless, wild and free. Untouchable… Indestructible… Ten feet tall and motherfucking bulletproof...

Time steadily crept toward three in the morning. Edward relaxed on a cheap blue plastic lounge chair beside the pool, the motion sensor security lights aligning the back of the house somewhat illuminating the space around him. His dingy Nike Air Jordan's were untied, his faded blue jeans severely distressed, his white V-neck shirt stained with spilled alcohol. Dark Ray-Bans unnecessarily shielded his bloodshot eyes in the nighttime, but he didn't give a fuck. In fact, at that moment, he gave a fuck about nothing.

Nothing except for the brunette twenty feet in front of him, that is.

_Isabella Swan_.

She was younger, only sixteen. Unlike most of the others there, she wouldn't graduate for another two years. Edward's friends had given him shit for pursuing a sophomore, but something about her had captivated him from the very first moment he laid eyes on her, and he had to have her. There was no way around it. Maybe it was the pull of her smile, half sweet, the other half sinister, like those lips could tell stories only the boldest men would ever dare hear; or maybe it was her big brown doe eyes, wide and full of innocence; or maybe it was her tight body, still smooth and soft with youth, but stacked like a full-blown, hot-blooded woman.

Or maybe it was simply the fact that she was the daughter of the town's new Chief of Police, and there was nothing Edward loved more than doing precisely what he probably shouldn't do.

Regardless of what started it, whatever had drawn him to her in the first place, the attraction between them now was clear and undeniable. She was his everything—his sun, his moon, his stars... his _universe_.

He was her Superman, and she was his motherfucking kryptonite.

Isabella pulled herself out of the pool, her hot pink bikini glowing as water dripped from her long hair and coated her pale skin, shimmering like glitter. A radiant smile lit up her face as her deep brown eyes focused intently on Edward. With no hesitation, absolutely no second-guessing, she plopped her ass right down on the lounge chair, straddling him. It was like dumping a bucket of ice water straight on his lap, soaking him, ruining the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, but _still_, no fucks were given.

None at all.

Because a mere twelve hours earlier, he'd graduated at the top of his class, officially marking the beginning of his last summer of childhood.

Or first summer of adulthood. _Whatever_.

He had nothing to do and nowhere to go. His summer was wide-open, two and a half months of nothing but fun and sun, smoking and drinking, playing and fucking the beautiful girl on his lap.

He gripped her hips, pulling her against him, his hard cock straining against his zipper. Despite the clothing, despite the cold water covering those clothes, he could still feel the heat radiating off of her, her body tempting him, yearning for him, screaming out for him.

Isabella smashed her lips to his, kissing him messily, recklessly, teeth gnashing together. He groaned in her mouth, biting her bottom lip when she dared start to pull away. A soft giggle burst from her chest, filling the air between them. She started to speak when a giant splash of water flew their way, soaking the two of them even more. They both turned, startled, watching as Edward's cousin Alice jumped out of the pool, barely holding up the top of her orange flowery bikini. Jasper, her boyfriend and one of Edward's best friends, jumped out behind her, stark naked except for his graduation cap still somehow perched on his head, dripping water. He went after Alice, circling around Edward's chair, cock flapping in the breeze as he ran.

"Jesus Christ, Jazz, cover that shit up!" Edward hollered, snatching an empty beer can from the patio beside him and hurling it at his friend. It missed by a mile, hitting the deck, not fazing Jasper in the least.

Isabella laughed, shaking her head as her attention shifted back to Edward. A mischievous twinkle shined from her eyes. "Let's play hide and seek."

Edward stared at her. He was drunker than drunk, and high as fuck. Getting out of his seat would take a miracle.

"Come on," she said. "It'll be fun."

He still just stared at her. What were they, six?

"Please?" she pleaded. "I'll let you take me wherever you find me."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Take you?"

"Yeah, you know…" She bit down on her bottom lips, a bit of that shy innocence peeking through before the vixen took over again. "…fuck me."

_Ding, ding, ding... alert the Vatican... we have us a full-blown motherfucking miracle on our hands._

He kissed her quickly, an excited peck as he squeezed her ass cheeks. "I'm counting to a hundred and then you're mine."

With a squeal, Isabella jumped up and backed away. "Close your eyes."

He did.

"No peeking!"

He didn't.

He could hear her bare feet slapping the wet concrete as she scurried away.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five..."

Alice laughed somewhere nearby, finally caught by Jasper.

"Six... Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten..."

112's Peaches and Cream started playing on the stereo in the house. "That's my song!" Emmett McCarty yelled, voice slurring, drunk as hell. Emmett was like a brother to Edward... the third musketeer rounding out him and Jasper's fucked-up friendship trio.

"Eleven... Twelve... Thirteen... Fourteen... Fifteen..."

The music got turned up even louder, the bass vibrating the ground beneath their feet, making it impossible to hear each other anymore, much less try to think.

"Twenty... Twenty-Five... Thirty... Thirty-Five... Forty... Forty-Five..."

Someone cannon-balled into the pool, sending a mound of water Edward's way. His eyes flew open as he climbed to his feet, light-headed.

"Fifty… Sixty… Seventy… Eighty… Ninety…"

He staggered across the patio toward the house, cock throbbing at the thought of fucking her on the stairs, or the washing machine, or the balcony, or fuck, outside. Somewhere risqué, with the chance of being caught, of everyone watching, as he owned that pussy and made her scream his name in ecstasy.

_Fuck a hundred._

"Ready or not, here I come!" he yelled, running his hand through his hair as he mumbled to himself, "or I will be coming... just as soon as I find her."

_Find her._


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Special thanks to Bellasexeqtner for being all "Psshhhhh, post that shit!" And t****hanks to all of you for reading my words and embracing this little story with open arms, despite my warnings and history of hardcore angst. Hang in there. I like to think it'll be worth it ;)  
**

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**Chapter One**

**2013**

The phone hit the floor with a bang, like an anvil dropped from a cliff, slamming into the hard ground. The sound seemed to echo through the shell of a building and out into the busy Chicago street, through the glass-less windows, covered by translucent sheets of flimsy plastic. It drew the attention of some of the construction crew, the machines all turned off for their lunch break. A few nearby turned, curious, while Edward just stood there, staring straight ahead.

Through the lingering sawdust, through his sudden anxiety, he could hardly breathe.

"Edward? Are you still there?"

The female voice called from the phone on the floor, blurry and distorted. It felt like water clogged Edward's ears, blocking out her words, like his body was shutting down and refusing to hear anymore.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

He swallowed thickly, trying to force himself to move, but he couldn't. He couldn't do shit but stare straight ahead.

He'd had no intention of answering when his cell phone rang and the familiar Forks phone number flashed on the screen. It hadn't graced his caller ID in years—so long, in fact, it was no longer programmed into his phone—but he knew those numbers. And those numbers didn't call him anymore.

_So why the fuck did I answer? Curiosity? Stupidity?_

"Please, Edward! Talk to me!"

She was crying now. He could hear it in her voice.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he reached over and snatched the phone from the floor. "I'm here."

She sniffled, trying to calm down. "Like I was saying, the funeral is in three days. I hope you-"

"Look, I have to go," he said before she had a chance to finish. Saying those words hurt, a nagging deep in his chest, a voice in the back of his head crying 'you spineless, selfish asshole!' but the thought of what she was about to say hurt a hell of a lot more. "I appreciate the call, I do, but I _really_ have to go."

The conversation ended before she could say anything more.

He stood there, drowning in the silence, as he rubbed his temples and stared at his phone. He expected her to call back—half praying she did, half hoping she wouldn't. Half of him wanted answers, a goddamn _explanation_, while the other half just wanted to forget about it all.

But his phone didn't ring. It did nothing.

_As if I don't have enough fucking stress right now._

Sighing, he grabbed his things before heading for the door… or rather, the hole in the building where the door was supposed to go. _Club Eclipse_, slated to open in just six short weeks, was nowhere near close to being ready yet.

As soon as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, a familiar black motorcycle came rumbling down the street, whipping into a space between two work trucks out front. It wasn't even a parking spot, but that mattered little. Garrett wasn't one for following rules. He and Edward had been friends for a few years, having met when Edward started tending bar at a small place right after his 21st birthday. Eclipse was Garrett's dream, and one Edward had been happy to get in on.

What man _wouldn't_ want to be his own boss?

"Hey, you ducking out already?" Garrett hollered as he took off his helmet. His stringy blond hair stood up everywhere as he ran this hands through it. He climbed off the bike, clad in his signature leather jacket with the elaborate rose and snake insignia on the back. Underneath he wore an old, torn wifebeater, tucked into a pair of black jeans, topped off with a pair of scuffed black boots.

He appeared the complete opposite of Edward in his khaki cargo shorts, Nikes, and white polo shirt.

Edward's footsteps faltered. "Yeah, I got a hell of a headache, so I'm gonna just head home."

"Well, feel better, man," Garrett said, slapping him on the back as he strode past. "See you later."

"See ya."

Edward was in a daze as he drove across town, trying to push the phone call from his thoughts, trying to get the sound of her voice out of his head. He pulled his silver Volvo into the parking lot of the apartment complex in the east side, parking behind the bright red mustang convertible.

A convertible that wasn't supposed to be there at that hour…

As soon as he opened the front door of his one-bedroom apartment, a small tan fur-ball darted toward him, yapping loudly, adding fuel to the fire raging inside his throbbing skull.

"Oh, shut up," he grumbled, stepping around the barking Pomeranian. What could only be described as elevator music swaddled the apartment, blaring from a set of speakers in the corner of the living room. The furniture had been shifted around, a big pink yoga mat spread out on top of the carpet, a firm ass stuck straight up in the air in some downward-spread-eagle-doggy-style position. She was bent straight over at the waist, her legs spread and head peeking through them, upside down blue eyes looking straight at him.

If he hadn't been so annoyed, he might've been turned on.

"Tanya," he said slowly. "Didn't you have a job interview today?"

"Yeah, but I decided not to go," she said, standing up straight and stretching her arms above her head as she turned to him. Her hair was a red, curly nest on top of her head as sweat shined from her flushed face. "I mean, I thought about it, but they'll probably expect me to work weekends, and nights, and I have _way_ too much else to do. And besides, Irina heard from a friend whose cousin works across the street from the place, and she said..."

_Yada, yada, yada... Blah, blah, blah..._ Edward heard nothing but senseless excuse after excuse as she rambled on and on, spewing the same bullshit he heard every other time the subject of her getting a job was brought up.

"...and it's barely minimum wage, anyway, so really, what's the point?"

"The point is it's a job, T, and we need the extra money," Edward said, grabbing a stack of envelopes from the table. _Bills_. "These won't pay themselves, you know."

"Oh, we're doing fine," Tanya said dismissively as she approached, snatching the stack of mail from his hands and tossing it back on the table. "We're not behind on anything."

"Not yet," he said. "Every penny of my savings is going into this business and I'm not going to see anything out of it for a while. I still have bartending, but that's barely enough to eat on."

She sighed dramatically and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You stress too much. It's bad for your health."

The dog did frantic circles around them, still yapping, nipping at Edward's feet. It grabbed ahold of his shoestrings with his teeth and started tugging, backing away. He shook his foot to get it off and had to resist the urge to kick the fucking thing.

"That mutt of yours is bad for my health," he said.

Tanya laughed as she pushed away from him, reaching down to pick up the excited dog. "Be nice to my baby. Leah's a sweetheart."

"She's evil."

Before either could say anything more, the cell phone in Edward's pocket started ringing. He tensed immediately, his muscles taut, as he pulled it out and glanced at the lit-up screen.

The familiar number shined back at him, _'Forks, WA'_ displayed underneath.

His heart stalled as his finger hovered over the buttons.

_Accept. Decline._

_Accept. Decline._

_Accept. Decline._

In a split second decision, he declined the call.

"Who was that?" Tanya asked, her brow furrowing as she peeked over at his phone, a tinge of jealousy and suspicion in her voice.

He stared at it for a moment to see if it would ring again, to see if she'd call back, to see if she'd leave a message, but all remained silent.

Well, all except for Tanya's impatient huffing as she waited for a response from him.

"It's nobody," he said quietly. "Just my mother."

Her eyes widened. "Your mom?"

"Yeah. My, uh..." He trailed off, an ache in his chest as he forced out the next words. "My father passed away."


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: As usual, thanks for reading. I've been fail at review replies, but I appreciate every single one of them.**

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**2001**

Edward strolled through the house, bypassing people—some friends, others strangers; some partying, others passed the fuck out on the stairs—as he peeked in rooms, seeking out his hiding girlfriend.

The party was finally dying down, not a single sober soul to be found anywhere on the premises. Music still thumped from the stereo system, rattling the speakers and shaking the floor, but it had been turned down a bit as everyone started wandering off, going their separate ways for the night.

Or the morning. Edward looked at his watch with blurry eyes: 3:48am _Definitely morning_.

_When did it get so late?_

"Bellllaaaaa," he called out, his voice sing-songy, teasing and taunting, slurred from the alcohol simmering in his bloodstream. If he didn't find her soon, he was going to pass the fuck out, too. "Come on, baby. Come out, come out wherever you are!"

She'd been hiding for damn near an hour already. Edward's patience was running thin, his erection and all thoughts of fucking her tonight long gone. He just wanted to find her so he could go the hell to sleep.

He paused in the kitchen as Jasper bounded in the backdoor, still naked as the day he was born, a giggling Alice thrown over his shoulder. Edward rolled his eyes, yelling at his friend. "Put on some fucking clothes already."

Jasper flipped him off and kept on going, taking Alice straight upstairs. To a bedroom, Edward knew.

"Horny fucks," he grumbled.

He glanced around, stepping over a vaguely familiar guy out cold on the checkered marble floor, as he headed for the game room—the only room in the house still alive with action. The crack of balls echoed through the downstairs as a few people played a game of pool. He stepped into room, recognizing only two of the players.

Tyler and Jacob, fellow seniors.

"Yo, you guys seen Bella?"

Tyler shook his head, disinterested, his eyes never leaving the pool table, while Jacob's attention instantly shifted to Edward. "Isabella Swan?"

Edward's brow furrowed. "What other Bella is there?"

Jacob shrugged. "I don't know. I thought she was with you."

"Yeah, she was, but..."

'But we're playing hide and seek' sounded too fucking ridiculous for him to admit.

_The shit we do for pussy._

"We haven't seen her," Tyler said, shoving Jacob and motioning toward the pool table. "Your turn."

"Sorry, man," Jacob muttered. "But yeah, haven't seen her. Not since earlier when she was with you."

Edward sighed with frustration. "Thanks, anyway."

He looked around some more, continually shouting her name, asking everyone he passed if they'd seen her anywhere, but no one had that they could recall. It was like she was invisible, people only noticing her when he was also around to draw attention to them.

It was something he probably should've been used to, but something he'd never understand. Isabella lit up a room for him, a speck of brightness in an otherwise dismal day-to-day bullshit life of a high school kid, but no one else seemed to notice her radiant glow. When he'd told his friends about his interest in her, they'd all looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

A really fucking ugly second head.

"Wait," Emmett had said, his brow furrowed as he leaned against his filthy red jeep, taking a deep drag from a joint. It was the middle of the afternoon and they were supposed to be in school, but they'd skipped to play some baseball out in a field instead. "Who?"

"Isabella Swan," he'd said for probably the fiftieth time. "You know, Chief Swan's kid?"

"Oh, yeah, right," Emmett said. "I heard he had a kid. A girl, right?"

Edward stared at him blankly as he snatched the joint from him and took a hit. "You're a stupid motherfucker."

Jasper laughed. "She goes by Bella, right? I'm pretty sure she's friends with Alice."

She was. It was how Edward had met her… through his cousin. He'd walked into her house one day to drop something off for his aunt Charlotte and BAM, there Isabella was, sitting on their ugly plaid couch, all alone in the quiet room. She took one tentative look at him and bit down on her bottom lip.

He'd immediately forgotten why the fuck he was even there.

"That mousy girl Alice has been hanging around?" Emmett asked. "The one with the brown hair? _That's_ her?"

Jasper nodded, smirking, as Edward rolled his eyes. "She's not fucking _mousy_."

"She is, man," Emmett said. "She squeaks."

"Whatever," Edward grumbled. Maybe she squeaked, and squealed, but he didn't give a fuck. She was beautiful, and the thought of making her scream was enticing.

"She's nice, I guess," Jasper said. "But if you like her? Go for it. Don't think you'll have much competition, considering she's a sophomore."

Not like he'd have much competition, anyway. With a population of only a little over three thousand people, his family was at the top of the proverbial food chain in Forks. He hadn't ever been turned down by anybody.

She was the first.

The day he'd finally asked her out—to "hang out"—she'd shook her head and said the words that would come to haunt him their entire relationship:

"_My father wouldn't like that."_

As Edward strolled through his house, looking at the aftermath of tonight's party, he couldn't help but think of just how much Chief Swan wouldn't like what was happening there.

_Uptight prick._

He ran into a senior named James in the foyer near the front door, the smell of smoke thick on him as he leaned against the wall. His eyes were bloodshot. He was definitely stoned as hell.

It made Edward want to smoke real bad, but first... _to find my fucking girl_. "Please tell me you've seen Bella."

James hesitated. "Uh, yeah."

Relief washed through him. _Finally_. "Where?"

"She was outside with you, wasn't she?"

Edward sighed. _Goddammit_. "Since then?"

"Oh, no, then. Sorry."

"It's all right," he grumbled. "Let me know if you do, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

Four bedrooms. Three bathrooms. An office. The game room. A kitchen. A den. A laundry room. An attic. A basement. A two-car garage. Eight closets.

He even checked the cars, but there was no sign of Isabella _anywhere_.

"I need a fucking drink," he muttered, heading back into the kitchen, stepping over the passed-out guy on the floor again. He tried the keg but it was tapped out, so he turned to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Heineken instead. It was his father's, but he didn't think he'd miss it.

And if he did? Fuck it. _Fuck him_.

He popped the top off and took a swig as he leaned against the counter and glanced around. The kitchen was a disaster, cans and bottles and red solo cups everywhere. Trash cluttered the counters, puddles of drying beer spilled all over the floor. It looked like the inside of a frat house, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Still, the only fuck he gave was for Isabella.

Where the hell could she be?

On a whim he opened all the cabinets, as well as the pantry. He even checked the damn deep freezer.

All empty.

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**Where oh where did Isabella go? Hmmmm... I'm interested to hear your theories.**


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: Yes, me again. Yes, another chapter. I'm leaving tomorrow for a week of vacation (Maroon 5 concert in FL! Trip to CA!) so there won't be an update next week... hence the abundance of chapters this week to hold you over**

**Again, thanks for reading. Love your theories so far on what happened.**

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**2013**

Insomnia plagued Edward.

Lying in bed, arm draped over his forehead, he stared at the textured white apartment ceiling in the darkness. Despite popping painkillers like they were Pez for hours, a headache still raged beneath his skull, pounding and throbbing, blurring his vision.

_Or maybe it was the tears he was fighting that did it…_

Regardless, he had a feeling the headache wouldn't go away until the situation did, but he didn't know what to think, or how to even _feel_, much less how to deal with it. The numbness he'd become accustomed to the past few years had given way to something more, a dull ache in his chest, part grief and part anger. He'd tried to break away from that life, from those things, for the sake of everyone involved, but the past had caught up to him, thanks to the three words his mother had choked out the second he'd accepted her call.

_Your father's dead._

No "Hello."

No "How are you?"

Just "Your father's dead."

Dead. How the fuck was he _dead_?

A soft glow illuminated the room as buzzing vibrated the black nightstand the moment that thought crossed his mind. Edward glanced over at his phone, as if on cue, and saw those familiar numbers once more lighting up the screen. It was midnight in Chicago... but only ten o'clock back in Forks.

He didn't move to answer it, but he didn't automatically reject the call either. He merely stared at those numbers until the screen went black again.

Tanya laid beside him, sleeping soundly, her petite frame only taking up a fraction of the bed. She didn't even stir when his phone started ringing again...

...and again...

...and again...

...and again...

Groaning, Edward grabbed it and finally answered on the sixth call. Ignoring her wasn't working. No matter how much he might've wished it, she wasn't going away. _It_ wasn't going away.

"What do you want from me?" he asked quietly, exasperated, forgoing any kind of greeting. Pleasantries were senseless. He knew there was nothing pleasant about this for either of them.

"I want you to come home, Edward."

_Home_. Forks wasn't his home, and it hadn't been for many years. Not since that summer. Not since he walked away, his heart completely shattered, a gaping hole there that would never again be filled.

"Me coming there would do more harm than good."

"Not true," she insisted. "Besides, you don't have to stay. You don't even have to see anybody. Just... come say your piece."

"I told him long ago I wouldn't come," Edward replied. "I swore I'd never show my face there again. And… I made a promise. You know that."

"We all said things we didn't mean," she said. "Your father... he loved you. He really did."

Edward closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear it. "I have to go."

"But Edward-"

He hung up mid-sentence. Again.

Within a matter of moments, the phone was ringing again. He didn't answer, and after a few seconds the screen lit up with a new voicemail. Ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him to delete it without listening, he pressed play, his mother's voice quivering as she cried out a single word.

"Please."

_Please_.

* * *

The sun shone brightly in the bedroom window, creeping through the open slats of the dingy white blinds. Edward still lay in bed, his dry, tired eyes remaining focused on the ceiling. Everything was still blurry, a fog of confusion and apprehension.

Tanya rolled over to face him, smiling sleepily as she ran her hand across his bare chest, manicured fingernails gently scraping his skin. She traced the lines of the tattoo over his heart. The cursive letters BS, homemade and shaky, etched there one drunken night his senior year of high school. He'd told Tanya it was some stupid shit he'd done on a dare with some old friends... BS, maybe bullshit, he wasn't quite sure anymore... but that was far from the truth.

BS was Bella Swan.

The night he'd done it was as fresh of a memory as this morning, or yesterday, or the day before that one. Before he'd even had the nerve to say "I love you," before she'd had the courage to tell her father they were together, he'd been so sure of her—of _them_—that he'd let his friend Emmett permanently mar his skin with her initials.

And he never once regretted it.

How could he?

Regretting it would be regretting her, and how to do you regret something so beautiful? It's like begrudging the stars for shining, or lungs for breathing, or the earth for spinning. You can't regret what was naturally supposed to be.

And they had been. Over a decade and half a dozen girlfriends later, he was still certain about that fact, as selfish as it may have been. She'd been the best thing to happen to him, but it was quite the opposite for her. If it hadn't been for him, she wouldn't have...

He silently shook his head, closing his eyes. He couldn't even think about it without being overcome with guilt.

He'd gotten a few more tattoos over the years—legit ones, intricate and professional—but the faded blue homemade letters remained untouched. He couldn't bare the thought of removing them, but he also couldn't bare the thought of telling Tanya the real story.

Just like he couldn't bare the thought of going back to that fucking town.

"You're awake already," Tanya said, her voice weighed down by sleep. "Good morning."

He didn't bother telling her he hadn't gone to sleep at all. "Morning, T."

Her hand on his chest drifted lower, running across his toned abs, before slipping beneath the elastic of his black boxer briefs. He hissed, closing his eyes when she came into contact with his cock. It instantly perked up at her touch, hardening instinctively in her smooth palm. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax as she stroked him a few times, but each second that passed saw him growing softer and softer again.

Sighing with frustration, he sat up and pulled her hand away. His feet hit the floor, his head dropping down as he ran his hands through his messy hair.

"What's wrong, babe?" Tanya asked, sitting up. She ran her hands up his back and massaged his shoulders, but he was so tense it did no good.

"Just a lot of shit on my mind," he muttered. "This whole thing with my parents isn't helping."

"Oh, right." Her voice was quiet. "Did you want me to come with you?"

"Come with me where?"

"To the funeral."

He shook his head. "I'm not going."

"What? You have to go!"

"Why?"

"It's your father, Edward!"

_His father._

Tanya knew nothing about his parents. She'd never met them, and Edward had told her upfront she never would. She never questioned why they had no relationship, which he appreciated. He had no idea how to explain it if she did.

Would he tell her the truth of what happened?

Fuck that shit.

Edward stood up and strolled over to his closet, snatching some clothes out to wear for the day. There were interviews in the morning, meetings in the afternoon, and he had his bartending gig later that night.

It would be a long day... that was for sure.

"I have too much to do," he said. "Besides, we can't afford it. We're barely scraping by as it is. A trip to Washington is out of the question right now."

Or ever.

Before she could argue, Edward slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

He took a long, hot shower, but the water did nothing to ease his tension.

Nor did it even wake him up.

He was dragging his feet as he dressed, exhausted mentally and physically, and slipped away from the apartment while Tanya was showering to avoid finishing their conversation. Hopefully she'd be asleep when he finally made it back home from the bar at around three o'clock the next morning, and maybe tomorrow she'd forget it all together.

The morning was a blur of faces and voices for Edward as he held interviews in a leased office space downtown. First round interviews were with him, and the ones he approved went for a second interview with Garrett. Edward tried to focus, asking questions and listening for the right answers, but it was all a haze, one after another just like the last.

How much fucking qualification did it take, anyway? He'd started working in a bar after failing out of college his first year at the University of Chicago. He needed to do something to survive… he sure as hell couldn't go back home.

When he finally made it through all of the morning interviews, he grabbed the stack of applications and the measly few notes he'd managed to take and went to the site to meet up with Garrett. He stepped right through the hole for the door and bypassed all the workers, heading for the office straight ahead.

The moment he opened the door, familiar laughter struck him. Brow furrowing, he froze in the doorway. The office was the only part of the building completed, some furniture already crammed into the room. Garrett lounged in a black leather chair, while Tanya sat on the big wooden desk in front of him.

_What the fuck?_

They both turned to face him as he entered, and Tanya's face lit up with a sly smile.

"What are you doing here?" Edward asked, shutting the door behind him.

Garrett chimed in before Tanya could answer. "She told me about your situation."

His eyes narrowed. "What situation?"

"About your father," Garrett said quietly, sympathetically. "I'm sorry about your loss, man."

Anger swirled inside of Edward, intense and crippling. His knees nearly gave out on him. Maybe it was unfounded, but he had the urge to shout, 'you know nothing about my fucking loss!'

Instead, he sighed, plopping down in a metal chair on the other side of the desk as he muttered, "yeah, thanks."

"Garrett agrees with me," Tanya said, grabbing something from the top of the desk and holding it up. "You have to go to the funeral."

Edward glared at her, studying the object in her hand. It took a moment for it to register what it was: airline tickets.

_You've gotta be kidding me..._

"I told you we couldn't afford it," Edward ground out through clenched teeth.

"Well, it's a good thing I paid then," Garrett said.

"You shouldn't have." _Really, you fucking shouldn't have._

"Go," Garrett insisted. "Be there for your family."

"But my job..."

"I've already talked to your boss," Tanya said. "He's got your shifts covered."

"We need that money."

"No, we don't." Tanya's smile grew. "I got a job!"

Edward stared at her with disbelief. She got a job? "Where?"

She waved her arms around. "Here! You're looking at your new assistant!"

Blinking rapidly, Edward turned his focus from his girlfriend to the stack of applications still in his hand. He was pretty sure he'd just interviewed a dozen fucking people for that position.

"So it's settled," Garrett said. "The ticket's open-ended, so stay as long as you need and come home whenever you're ready. Tanya and I will hold down fort here in the mean time."

Edward wanted to argue, to refuse, but he could think of no argument that didn't make him sound like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. They wouldn't understand... they couldn't. They knew nothing about his life there, about his past, about the fallout that led to him leaving and never looking back.

And they certainly knew nothing about the summer of 2001... the summer that changed everyone's lives in Forks.


	5. Chapter 4

AN: As usual, thanks for reading.

* * *

**2001**

"Bella!"

Edward's voice cracked as he screamed her name, standing in the middle of the vacant back yard on Meadow Drive. His eyes furiously scanned the tree line a few yards away, desperately-_stupidly_-hoping she'd have gone there. Mountain lions, and wolves, and fuck, bears roamed those vast overgrown woods, but she had to be somewhere.

_Some-fucking-where._

"Just... relax." Emmett's voice was a forced calmness, but an underlining panic shined through. "I mean, maybe she's still hiding in the house."

"Where?" Edward ran his hands through his hair, furiously gripping the chaotic bronze locks. "I've looked everywhere, Em. More than once."

He'd even looked under furniture, like she could actually fit her skinny ass there.

"Shit, I don't know," Emmett said as Edward paced around the pool. He'd even searched _it_, terrified she'd fallen in. "Maybe she's just really good at hiding."

Edward groaned, glancing at his watch through blurry eyes. The sun was starting to rise in the distance, the sky steadily lightening. _6:18am_. "She's been gone for over three hours now. Three fucking hours! She's not that good at hiding. It's impossible."

"Maybe she fell asleep," Rosalie, Emmett's girlfriend, suggested as she snaked her way into Emmett's arms. "She was drunk, right?"

"Maybe," Edward muttered. It was certainly true. She could've easily just passed out somewhere. "But where? I'm telling you-she's not here."

He'd checked all the beds—even _under_ them—disturbing more than one couple trying to sneak some private time together. He'd pretty much cleared out the house in a violent rampage just moments ago as he tore through it for the fiftieth fucking time, looking for her. She wasn't in there... he was sure of that.

"She could've gone home," Emmett said. "Have you called her house?"

"And wake up her father?" Edward asked. "Are you fucking nuts?"

Charlie Swan, like most over-protective fathers, hated the older boy dating his baby girl. He'd all but forbidden their relationship from the beginning, only humoring it because his wife insisted it was harmless. _Puppy love_, Renee called it. _High school sweethearts_. Charlie had put strict rules in place, though, limiting their time together, taking no chances. Edward kept his nose clean (figuratively, not literally... he'd snorted coke a time or two), but Charlie was naturally suspicious of him. He had a reputation, after all, one that he'd done little to break free from. He was a playboy, a partier, and a troublemaker. The only reason Isabella was at the gathering tonight was because her father didn't know anything about it happening.

None of their parents did, actually.

As far as Charlie knew, Isabella was spending the night across town with her best friend Alice. _Oh, Alice_. They were going to get her in serious trouble for this. They would all be in trouble, without a doubt, but especially his cousin, Alice. She'd lied straight to the police chief's face.

('Yes, sir. We're going to stay at my house, braiding hair and playing MASH and doing whatever the hell you want to think girls do at sleepovers.')

_Fuck._

Edward continued to pace, his eyes still roaming the tree line for signs of movement, hoping at any moment she'd come bursting out of the woods, smiling, laughing, having been watching them the entire time, like it was all a big fucking joke. It had to be. There was no way she was actually missing.

He glanced at his watch again. _6:21am._

Emmett sighed exasperatedly. "I don't think you really have a choice at this point."

Edward knew that deep down, but he couldn't yet accept it. Naive went hand-in-hand with young and dumb. He couldn't believe it was that serious. They were invincible.

_Weren't they?_

"Maybe she went in there," Edward muttered, motioning toward the trees. "She probably went to hide and got lost. Bella's a city girl. She _hates_ the woods."

"Then why would she go in there?" Rosalie asked.

Edward groaned, kicking a discarded beer can into the pool. "I don't fucking know! But where else could she be?"

Commotion in the house made Edward swing around. Jasper came running out the back door, finally wearing a pair of shorts, while Alice ran behind him, still in her bathing suit.

"Any luck?" Edward asked.

Jasper shook his head. "No one that was here has seen her."

Edward knew that. He'd already asked them all before.

Multiple times.

Alice pushed past her boyfriend, eyes wide with panic, arms wrapped around her chest as she shivered, teeth chattering. "I'm scared, Edward. We have to call the police."

_We have to call the police._

Edward furiously shook his head, but he knew it was true.

They had to call someone, at least. They had to find his girl.

* * *

_Ring, ring._

_Ring, ring._

_Ring, ring._

"Yeah?"

Chief Swan's voice was rough like sandpaper, the call clearly waking him from a deep sleep. Edward swallowed thickly, his nerves flaring. He nearly hung up the phone without even speaking, panicked, but his desperation to find Isabella forced the words from his lips.

"Uh, Chief Swan," he said. "Is Bella home?"

"Cullen?" Chief Swan signed loudly, exasperatedly, as things rustled in the background. "It's six-thirty in the goddamn morning, boy."

"I know, sir, but…"

"She's at Alice's. She stayed the night there last night. You know that."

"Yes, but…"

"Don't call here so early," Chief Swan ground out. "Some of us have to work for a living and need to sleep."

Chief Swan grumbled something about ignorance and disrespectfulness. Before Edward could say another word, the line went dead.

Edward sighed. That went about as well as he expected it to go. "She's not there."

He slammed the cordless phone down on the cluttered kitchen counter and turned to his friends, all huddled around, hoping for an explanation, an end to the brewing nightmare. Jasper and Emmett cursed in harmony as Alice started to cry. Rosalie remained stoic, but a subtle worry brewed in her eyes as she gripped on to Emmett tighter.

"What now?" Rosalie asked.

Edward started opening up cabinets, scouring through them until he found the one his mother stuffed full of junk. Snatching out a flashlight, he turned it on and pushed past his friends, heading for the back door. "I'm going to look for her."

"Don't be stupid, man," Emmett hollered after him. "You know how big that forest is. It would take years to search it all."

"Yeah, well, I have to do something," he yelled back. "I can't just fucking stand around, waiting."

Edward stomped through the back yard, heading straight for the tree line. The back yard had lightened significantly, the sky a murky, cloudy white, but as soon as he stepped into the forest it felt like night-time again. The earth was soft, the air damp and musky, the thick leaves of the trees blocking out most of the light. He swung the glow of the flashlight around, tromping through the brush, as Emmett and Jasper followed him.

"Bella!" he screamed. "Goddamnit, Bella, can you hear me?"

No response.

He tore through the trees, his feet frantically moving, as he swung in circles and repeatedly shouted. His friends conceded, no longer trying to stop him, and took up calling out for her, too. Their loud voices ricocheted through the woods, bouncing off of the trees, startling the birds and other wildlife, but there was no answer-no response, no movement, no cries. Nothing.

Another long, tense, frantic hour passed with absolutely no sign of Isabella Swan anywhere. They'd searched less than a faction of a percent of the surrounding forest.

"This isn't working," Jasper said, grabbing Edward's shoulder to stop him from continuing on. "We're never going to find her like this."

"What the fuck else am I supposed to do?" Edward spat.

"You know what," Emmett said quietly. "We really gotta call the police, man."

* * *

Dispatcher: _911, what's your emergency_?

Edward: _Yeah, uh,_ _I need to report a missing person._

Dispatcher: _...okay._

Edward: _We were hanging out at my house and she just… I don't know… she just fucking disappeared. She's gone. It's been a few hours now and no one has seen her. We searched, but nothing.  
_

Dispatcher: _How old is she?_

Edward: _Sixteen._

Dispatcher: _Is it possible she just went home?_

Edward: _No. I called there and… no. She's not there. She's nowhere.  
_

Dispatcher: _Is there any sign of foul play? Any blood? Did you hear any screams? Any reason to suspect she's in imminent danger?_

Edward: _Uh, no. I mean, I don't think so. Maybe? I don't fucking know. She's just not here!  
_

Dispatcher: _Any reason to believe she was kidnapped?_

Edward: _No. Fuck. I think she just… I think she went into the woods or something. Got lost. She hates the fucking woods. She'd never be able to find her way back out.  
_

Dispatcher: _Did anyone see her do that?_

Edward: _No, no on saw anything._

Dispatcher: _Well, with no reason to suspect foul play, there isn't much that can be done right now. After forty-eight hours you can file a report, but a sixteen year old is capable to leaving somewhere of their own free will. It's not a crime, sir._

Edward: _I know that, but…_

Dispatcher: _In fact, unless she's endangered in some way, it's likely a case of a runaway teenager. It's not uncommon. Girls that age often-_

Edward: _No, you don't understand._

Dispatcher: _I do understand, sir. As I've said, if after forty-eight hours—_

Edward: _No, you don't understand. Jesus Christ, this isn't just some sixteen-year-old girl. This is Isabella Swan._

(pause)

Dispatcher: _The chief's daughter?_

Edward: _Yes._

Dispatcher: _Is this a joke?_

Edward: _No. Why would I fucking joke about this?_

(another pause)

Dispatcher: _Someone will be right out._


	6. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks for reading, gals and guys. I appreciate it so much. To address some concerns: Chapter will continue to be short and frequent. Some of you requested (or demanded) the longer chapters that I know I'm known for, but if I even attempted to write longer chapters right now you can be certain to go months between updates with all of my publishing deadlines. Some of you asked me to assure you this is a HEA... as with my other work, all I can really say is a HEA is so objective that it's hard to say for certain, but I'm happy with it, so hopefully you will be, too.

* * *

**2013**

Edward sat behind the wheel of his silver Volvo across the street from the bustling site of Club Eclipse. Tanya's red convertible was parked only a few spaces down from him, gleaming in the bright afternoon sunshine.

How hadn't he seen it when he pulled in earlier?

The plane ticket lay wrinkled on the seat beside him. He stared at it for a moment, still trying to come to grips with its existence. He knew Tanya meant well by going to Garrett, but he was irritated and frustrated at her meddling. Why couldn't she have left well enough alone? Why couldn't she just accept the fact that he didn't want to go?

_Oh, right. Because not going makes me a selfish prick, and she thinks I'm better than that._

_Too bad she's wrong._

Sighing, he pulled out his cell phone. He couldn't call his mother-he wasn't ready to talk to her yet-so he did what he thought was the next closest thing.

Dialing another Washington phone number, this one surprisingly still listed in his contacts, he quietly waited as it rang. The female voice answered, guarded and timid. "Hello?"

"Hey, Alice."

Her breath caught. "Edward."

They said nothing for a moment, not knowing what to say, before they both tried to talk at the same time. Edward cut off, running his hand through his hair, as Alice laughed nervously.

_Awkward_.

"You go," she insisted.

He closed his eyes. "What happened?"

"It was a heart attack."

Heart attack.

"Did he suffer?"

She hesitated. "No, he went in his sleep. They said he didn't feel a thing."

Silence ensued again, strained and uncomfortable, as the truth hung between them. Carlisle Cullen had been made of steel-rigid and cold, sleek and impenetrable. He feared nothing in the world, approached everything with confidence, his head held high.

Who would've thought his own heart would've been the death of him?

Despite himself, Edward laughed bitterly at the irony of that. Many times that fateful summer, he'd found himself wondering if his father even had a fucking heart.

_They said he didn't feel a thing._

Had he ever?

"Are you coming?" Alice asked after a moment. "The funeral is in two days. I thought... well, I didn't know if..."

He finished her thought in his head: _...if you'd want anything to do with any of this_.

Edward opened his eyes again, glancing at the plane ticket. He didn't want to go back to that town, but he knew he needed to.

"Yeah, I'll be there."

* * *

Edward took a late flight from Chicago to Seattle the next night, where he picked up a rental car Garrett had secured for him. He drove the four-door gray Dodge Charger from Seattle to Clallum County, tightness in his chest as he crossed over the border. His heart was in his throat, his stomach tied in tight knots as he passed the old wooden _Welcome to Forks_ sign, suddenly feeling close to goddamn claustrophobic. He needed fresh air, needed out of that car right away.

Speeding down Main Street, he passed closed shops and dark gas stations, empty parks and silent houses. He passed a small alley, hardly giving it a glance, not noticing the police cruiser idling in the darkness until it was too late.

The car whipped out behind him, red and blue lights illuminating the night sky. The second Edward spotted them, every muscle in his body seized up as panic rushed through him. Fingers locked around the steering wheel, knuckles bright white with strain, he let out a shaky involuntary breath that seemed to be violently forced from his lungs like he'd been punched in the chest.

_Oh, fuck._

On the verge of hyperventilating, he nearly lost control of the car as he slammed the brakes and swung it over to the side of the road.

Instantly he felt eighteen again.

_Red and blue lights._

_Squealing tires._

_Panic and desperation._

_Too many fucking cops._

His heart was racing as he threw the car in park and cut the engine. The cruiser pulled up behind him, tight against his bumper. Edward glanced in the rear view mirror, trying to make out the officer's face, but it was just a blur in the flashing lights.

_Please don't be Charlie Swan. Anybody but Isabella's father._

"Calm the fuck down," he muttered to himself, running his hands down his face in an attempt to shake off his nerves. "It's just a speeding ticket. It's not like last time."

His words had conviction, like he really meant that shit, but he couldn't feel it. Instead, he felt meager and helpless, guilty and ashamed. Just crossing that border, just passing that sign, had wiped away over a decade of armor he'd built to not feel this way.

Slowly, the officer approached, almost tauntingly so. Edward rolled down his window and grabbed his driver's license from his wallet as the officer paused beside the driver's side door.

"License," the officer said the same moment Edward held it out. His voice was unfamiliar, young and boyish. Edward chanced a peek at him, relaxing ever so slightly when he caught sight of his face. It was definitely unfamiliar. He didn't know him at all.

_Thank God for small miracles._

Edward glanced at his uniform, squinting to make out the name on his chest: R. Biers.

Officer Biers held up a flashlight, studying the license, before shining the light right in Edward's face. "Edward Cullen."

Cringing, he shielded his eyes from the blinding glare. "Yes."

Something akin to shock passed across the officer's face as he moved the flashlight away, pointing it at the road. "Oh."

"I take it you've heard of me," Edward muttered, dropping his hand. He wasn't surprised, of course, but it was exactly what he hadn't wanted. He'd hoped to slip into town and get back out undetected, so not to disturb too many lives with his presence. He thought as long as he didn't encounter a select few he'd be fine, but clearly, based off of Officer Bier's expression, his reputation hadn't left Forks when he did.

The officer didn't reply, instead clearing his throat as he changed the subject. "Do you know why I stopped you, Mr. Cullen?"

"Uh, yeah. I was speeding a bit."

"A bit," Officer Biers echoed. "The limit is 30 on this stretch. It's always been 30. I clocked you going double that."

Sixty? _Shit_. "Sorry. It's been a long day and I was just... well..." There was no good excuse and he knew it. "Yeah."

Officer Biers held the license back out. Edward took it tentatively, eyeing the man as he took a step back.

"Slow down, Mr. Cullen, and watch yourself," he warned. "If you so much as jaywalk while you're here, the chief will throw the book at you. You can be sure of that."

Edward sat still, not saying a word, as Officer Biers strode away. He got back in his cruiser and cut the lights, pulling away and disappearing down the street without writing a ticket.

Slowly, Edward slid his license back into his wallet and started the car, doing 25 miles per hour as he drove the rest of the way to the old motel. The green vacancy sign flickered and buzzed in the window as Edward stepped inside, being greeted by a smiling, over eager middle-aged man with balding hair. "Hey, there! Good evening! What can I do for you, fella?"

"I need a room," he replied, pulling out the only credit card he had in his wallet. Garrett and Tanya had assumed he'd stay with his mother, but he couldn't. He wouldn't.

_No fucking way._

"Just one night?" the clerk asked.

"We'll start with that," he replied. The funeral was the next afternoon. He had every intention of leaving right afterward and going back to his life in Chicago, never to look back again.

The clerk studied the credit card, his eyes flickering to Edward briefly. He made no comment, no verbal confirmation, but his expression told Edward all he needed to know. There were no more smiles, no more warm greetings.

He recognized the name, too.

The clerk held out the key. "Room seventeen," he muttered.

No "have a nice day."

No "enjoy your stay."

He just turned and walked away.

Edward stood there for a moment, tapping the key against the counter. He considered saying something, uncomfortable and feeling unwelcome. He wanted to scream, "I'm not a monster!" He wanted to shout, "It's not my fucking fault!"

But he remained silent, because there was a part of him, deep down inside, that didn't believe those words for a second.


	7. Chapter 6

AN: To address a concern in an anonymous review I couldn't reply to... not all the answers are going to come out from the get-go. If that aggravates you, this may not be the story for you. It'll continue to be a slow burn for a bit, but answers are coming. If I gave them all away now, the story would be over.

Thank you guys for reading. I love you to pieces. *squishes your cheeks*

* * *

**2001**

Red and blue lights lit up the otherwise dim house as they flashed in the open windows from outside. The front yard was covered with over a dozen idling emergency vehicles—police, EMS, even a fire truck. It broke protocol, calling out this much manpower with no signs of foul play, but protocol meant nothing when it was one of their own.

The police chief's only daughter, vanished into thin air.

The official investigation had been going on for a little over an hour with no sign of Isabella anywhere. Search and Rescue teams were already scouring the forest, volunteers trickling in from the surrounding areas to help with the search. It was organized and methodic, but to Edward, it felt _chaotic_.

How had it gotten that fucking far?

He sat on the black leather couch in his living room, anxiously shaking his legs, his hands gripping his hair tightly. His mother sat beside him, rubbing soothing circles on his back, but there was nothing calming about it.

He was an exhausted, hung-over, distraught mess.

"Fuck," he spat to himself, still in disbelief. "This is fucked."

_They_ were fucked.

Where the hell was she?

"Your father's on his way," Esme said quietly, her shaky voice faintly a whisper as she tried to keep herself together. "I finally got a hold of him. He's coming right home."

After calling the police, Edward had tried calling both of his parents. His mother had rushed home from Port Angeles, where she'd gone for a 'girl's weekend' with Isabella's mother, Renee. But Edward's father, as usual, had been completely out of reach. He'd left graduation early, having been paged into surgery some-fucking-where. There was always a patient, always a case, always _something_ drawing him away from his family. It was a source of contention between father and son: everyone else saw Carlisle Cullen more than the Cullens did.

It wasn't as if they didn't get along. Things were civil, usually respectful. It was just that Carlisle was all business, all the time, whereas Edward preferred indulging in pleasure and play. They were oil and water that didn't quite mix, that couldn't understand each other, that couldn't relate. They were nothing alike, and Carlisle seemed to resent that fact.

He looked at his son like he was a stranger.

It wasn't just Edward's personality that conflicted with his father's… it was his life choices, too. Carlisle wanted him to follow in his footsteps, go to Harvard and study medicine. Edward had no interest in that, however, instead wanting to stay close to home. He'd accepted admission to the University of Washington in Seattle, so he could still see Isabella on the weekends.

"He's going to kill me," Edward muttered, dropping his head down and running his hands through his hair. "I'm fucking dead."

Tires squealed outside as a car raced down the driveway toward the house, spewing gravel everywhere. The front door flew open after a moment, violently slamming into the wall. Edward looked up, tensing as Chief Swan burst inside, half-dressed, hair a mess, eyes wild with distress.

Edward was dead, all right. Only maybe it would be Charlie that did it instead.

Renee was right behind him, tears streaking her cheeks. Charlie's gaze darted around the room before zeroing in on Edward. He bounded toward him so fast, so furious, that Edward flinched. He had little time to react before the chief snatched a hold of him and yanked him to his feet.

"Where is she?" he yelled, his face a mere few inches from Edward's. "Where's my daughter, boy?"

"I don't know," Edward stammered. "I, uh... Fuck! I don't know!"

"What do you mean you don't know? Huh?"

"I mean I don't know! She disappeared! I thought maybe she went home. I called you!"

That seemed to register with Charlie only at that moment as surprise flashed across his face, followed by an even more intense fiery rage. "You knew she was missing _then_ and you waited another hour to tell anyone? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry," Edward cried. "We were looking for her! I swear!"

"This is all your fault!" Charlie spat, shaking Edward. "You did this! You caused this! My daughter... she's gone, and it's because of you!"

"Charlie!" Renee and Esme cried at the same time. Renee grabbed a hold of her husband, wanting to calm him down, while Esme tried to get his hands off of her only son. It did little to help, their intervening only fueling the fire scorching the man's veins. He broke free from both of them, coming at Edward with even more hostility.

He twisted his arm behind his back and shoved him into the wall, slamming his face against the white plaster. Edward did little to resist, tears stinging his eyes as he closed them, trying to ward off the physical and emotional pain. Chaos erupted in the house, people shrieking, others crying, as Charlie forced both of his hands behind his back and handcuffed him. "You're under arrest."

"For what?" Esme cried. "Charlie, please! Stop this!"

He ignored her as he yanked Edward away from the wall and dragged him outside, disturbing the group that had gathered in the yard. Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, and Emmett all huddled around near the porch, talking to officers, telling their story. They gaped at the two of them as Charlie took no mercy, shoving him against the side of the police cruiser and roughly patting him down. He pulled everything out of his pockets... keys, wallet, cigarettes, rolling papers (_oh, fuck_)... and slammed it on the hood of the car. He found the joint hidden in with his smokes, but that didn't infuriate him as much as the condom he found stashed inside his wallet.

"I'm not letting you go until you tell me where she is," Charlie spat, opening the back of his cruiser and forcing Edward inside. "And then, when we find her, you're going to stay the hell away. You hear me? You're no good for her! You never were!"

The chief slammed the door, leaving Edward there alone, before storming away. Edward leaned forward, his forehead resting against the back of the seat in front of him, as his grip on himself slipped. Tears streamed from his eyes.

Chief Swan took it about as well as he'd expected him to.

* * *

"Now, Charlie, I know you're upset... trust me, we all are. But taking it out on Edward doesn't help anybody. It doesn't help you, or him, and it certainly doesn't help Isabella."

Carlisle's smooth voice faintly reached Edward in the backseat of the police cruiser. There was something about the way his father spoke—relaxed, reassuring, always steady and slow—that could calm anybody down in any situation. It was why he was such a good doctor: impeccable bedside manner.

He could make a dying man believe death wasn't so bad, after all.

"It's my daughter!" Charlie said, holding in tears from the sound of his strained voice. "My little girl, Carlisle!"

"I know, and we're all worried. But anything could've happened here. We don't know yet. In fact, I'm certain she'll show up and it'll all just be a big misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding? She's _missing_!"

"Which is why you should focus on finding her instead of doing _this_."

They went back and forth for a few minutes before Charlie finally calmed down, conceding to Carlisle's argument. He clearly wanted to believe him. Hell, they all wanted to. Edward certainly wanted to believe she'd appear and end the fucking nightmare.

But as the time steadily passed, minutes turning to hours, his confidence in that happening was taking a hit. Young and dumb, certainly, but maybe not so much naive anymore.

The door of the police cruiser opened and Edward was wordlessly yanked to his feet in the front yard. Charlie unlocked his handcuffs, grumbling something bordering both an apology and an accusation, before stalking away, leaving him alone with Carlisle.

Edward rubbed his wrists, sore from the tight restraints, before wiping his tear-stained cheeks. He turned to his father, waiting for him to say something, to berate him for throwing a party, to lecture him for being irresponsible, but Carlisle just stood there, staring, judging. He was dressed in a pair of gray slacks and a white button-down shirt, the sleeves shoved up to his elbows. He looked relaxed, almost at ease, but his eyes betrayed his posture.

There was a hatred deep in them. An intense rage.

Strained silent minutes passed before an officer tentatively approached. _Detective Felix_. "Edward, I'd appreciate it if you'd come down to the station with me so we can get your statement on record... officially."

Edward nodded slowly, still looking at his father, who continued to just stare at him. Another minute passed before Edward finally turned away, prepared to follow the detective, when Carlisle reached out and grasped his son's wrist.

He clutched tightly. Edward winced.

"Do you need me to call the lawyer?" Carlisle asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, "or can you handle this?"

He didn't need a lawyer. He'd done nothing. "I can handle it."

"Good."

Carlisle let go and walked away, heading onto the porch where his wife waited for him, crying quietly.


	8. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks for reading, guys. I'll spare you my babbling. Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**2013**

Edward stared at the dingy ceiling in the darkness as sleep once again evaded him.

It was beginning to become a habit.

The cheap off-white paint seemed almost tan from the glow of the flickering street light outside the grimy window. He wondered if the walls had always been this color, or if they'd yellowed over time. He'd been here once before, senior year of high school with his best friends. It had been Jasper's eighteenth birthday, and they'd rented a room to party in all night long. He couldn't recall the room number… seventeen or seven, maybe even the one he was in now—twenty-seven. What he did remember, though, was spending the night with Isabella wrapped around him, the two of them cloaked in simmering passion, going all the way for the first time.

He'd taken her virginity in a dingy, cheap motel room, a musky-smelling, flowery threadbare bedspread thrown over their heads in the pitch blackness, lips smashed together to muffle her cries of discomfort, as they sloppily—_drunkenly_—had sex in a room full of passed out teenagers.

In hindsight, he'd been a _terrible_ fucking boyfriend.

Although it had been a haze of drugs and alcohol, Edward seemed to remember things somehow being much brighter then. Or maybe that was just the way he saw the world now: dark and gloomy, withered and dull. The light in his life had gone out long ago, leaving him living in the shadows.

He tossed and turned, every so often taking a deep breath to steel himself from the flood of memories that promised to bring heartache and pain. Every time he did so, a rank odor would fill his lungs, a putrid combination of mildew, mothballs, and cigarette smoke.

By the time the sun was rising, a new day dawning, he was sick to his stomach and entirely fed up with the place.

Climbing out of the bed, he pulled on yesterday's clothes again and grabbed a hoodie from his bag, putting it on and throwing the hood over his messy hair, partially shielding himself. He headed from the room, slowly strolling down the early-morning street. He kept his head down, trying to evade unwanted attention, desperate to elude recognition, as he made his way to the small convenience store three blocks away.

Stepping inside, he avoided eye contact with the young blond man working as he went straight to the back of the store, stopping in front of the vast array of energy drinks. He scanned the cans, reaching inside and pulling out the biggest Red Bull they sold, when the bell above the door chimed and someone entered the store. Edward closed the cooler, clutching his drink, but he didn't even get time to turn around when he was frozen in his tracks by a single word.

"Chief!" the clerk exclaimed.

_Oh, shit._

"Morning, Newton."

That voice... it had been so long ago, but it was a voice Edward would never forget. It was a voice that had berated him many times that summer, interrogating him, condemning him, _accusing_ him of unfathomable shit in the midst of resentment and grief. In fact, it had been the last voice he'd heard before he left Forks for good, the words ones he'd carried with him for years.

'Leave,' he'd said. 'Swear to me you'll leave and never come back, boy.'

Just hearing that voice again made him feel two feet tall and red-faced from shame.

Edward stood completely still, like a deer caught in headlights, hoping not to be seen. His heart pounded hard in his chest, battering his ribcage. Charlie and the clerk chit-chatted about fishing conditions as the chief poured himself a cup of fresh brewed coffee from the counter off to the side.

"So I heard about the funeral today," Newton said quietly, abruptly switching the subject. Edward felt the color drain from his face as he took a few steps to the side, slipping into the candy aisle further away from the chief. "You think it'll be quiet?"

Chief Swan was silent for a moment as he poured some sugar and creamer into his cup. Grabbing a plastic spoon, he slowly stirred his coffee. "I don't know."

"You don't think… well, I mean, you don't think that…?"

"I said I don't know," Charlie said, his voice gruff. "Because I don't. I just don't know, kid."

"Yeah, you're right," Newton said. "I shouldn't have brought it up. Sorry."

Chief Swan muttered something incoherent in response as he paid for his coffee, then he strolled back out of the store without noticing Edward. When he heard the bell chime again, he turned around slowly and glanced out the store windows. He caught sight of the chief then, really looking at the man for the first time in over a decade. He seemed much, much older than he should've been, nearly all gray up top, his face lined with wrinkles, somehow both fifty-pounds heavier and more frail at the same time. Even his eyes seemed dull and faded, a faraway look in them, unenthusiastic and full of sadness as he glanced around the parking lot before climbing in his idling cruiser.

_I guess that's what happens when-_

"Morning!"

Edward's attention darted from Chief Swan to the clerk when the man spoke again. His eyes were fixated on Edward, a cheerful smile on his face. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he headed for the counter and set his drink down.

_Please don't fucking recognize me._

"Morning," he muttered, pulling out his wallet. "Pack of Camel Lights, please."

"Sure thing."

The clerk grabbed the cigarettes from the rack as Edward snatched a black lighter from the counter display. Hesitating, he grabbed the morning paper and tossed it on the counter also. He paid for it all using the only twenty-dollar bill in his wallet and walked out of the store before the clerk could try to strike up conversation about anything.

* * *

Edward took a quick shower when he returned to the motel (the water had two temperatures: dick-shriveling cold and scorching flesh hot) and stood in the room, a small white towel loosely wrapped around his hips as he unzipped his garment bag and eyed his plain black suit.

The shoulders were taut, and the pants were a bit snug in the ass, but it still fit well for being a decade old. He hadn't had time to buy anything, and if he had managed to find the time, he sure as fuck didn't have the money to splurge on a new suit. But it didn't matter, he figured, because he didn't plan on many people seeing him, anyway.

He wrapped the tie loosely around his neck, leaving it hanging, as he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and stepped out onto the balcony. Pulling the cellophane off of the pack, he dropped it to the ground near his feet as he pulled one out and lit it up.

He inhaled deeply, the smoke filling his lung and instantly being forced right back out in a whoosh. Coughing forcefully, Edward doubled over, his face turning bright red as his chest burned, desperate for oxygen.

"Christ," he gasped, shaking his head as he composed himself.

He hadn't smoked one in years, but something about being there, in that place, in that room, dealing with the prospect of having to see those fucking people again, reverted him right back to the teenager he had been.

Flicking his ashes over the railing, he pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Tanya's number, listening as the phone rang and rang before her voicemail kicked in. "It's Tanya! Leave me some love!"

He rolled his eyes as he usually did when she made a dramatic kissing noise before the beep. "Hey, T. It's me. I was just calling to check in. I got here last night, and, well… same ol' fucking Forks, you know?" He paused. She didn't know, and he didn't realize it until the words were out of his mouth. "I probably shouldn't have even came, but it'll be over soon enough, so whatever. Anyway, call me when you get this."

Hanging up, he stared at his contacts for a moment before putting the phone back in his pocket. He tossed his cigarette down and tramped it out, his chest viciously aching now, and stepped back into the room.

He grabbed the paper as he sat on the edge of the bed and flipped through it, reaching the obituaries. Scanning the names, he paused when he came upon his father's, surprised it was actually there. He figured his mother would've submitted one, despite the fact that he was pretty certain everyone—including his father—would've told her not to bother.

_Dr. Carlisle Cullen, 61, went to be with the Lord on March 23, 2013. A private memorial service will be held for family and friends at a later date._

_Born in Seattle in 1951, Carlisle earned his medical degree at Harvard University before moving with his family to Forks, WA. He spent the bulk of his career as a surgeon at hospitals in Forks and Seattle, volunteering his services at the local free clinic in his spare time._

_Loving husband and father…_

Edward let out a frustrated groan as he closed the newspaper, not bothering to read anymore. _My fucking mother..._

Pulling out his phone again, he dialed another number. It only rang once before a giggling, out-of-breath Alice picked it up. "Yeah?"

Edward hesitated. She sounded awfully cheerful.

"Hello?" she said when he didn't respond. "Anyone there?"

"Uh, yeah." He ran his hand through his hair. "Am I interrupting?"

She gasped. "Edward!"

A voice in the background echoed his name, striking him as somewhat familiar.

"Is Jasper there?"

"Oh, uh… no." Alice cleared her throat. "I heard you were in town already."

"You heard? From who?"

"From, uh… well… it's a long story. I need to get ready. You wanna stop by my place?"

Edward opened his mouth, about to say "yes," when he heard that voice in the background again. He blew out a deep breath and shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to be around a bunch of people... even if those people had once been his best friends. "I think I'll just meet you there."

"Oh, okay. The service is at one at the old cemetery. You remember where that is?"

Edward blinked a few times. "Of course I do."

"Well, I'll see you there," Alice said. "Bye, Edward."

Before he hung up, he heard his cousin giggling again.


	9. Chapter 8

AN: Unbeta'ed, as usual, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes you stumble upon. They're mine, and mine alone.

* * *

**2001**

"Let's go through this one more time."

With a loud groan, Edward dropped his head, his forehead smacking the hard wooden table with a thud. He barely even felt it. His eyes slowly drifted closed, exhaustion infiltrating every cell in his young body.

It had been around eight in the morning the last time he'd looked, but it seemed like hours ago at that point. It was probably around nine, he figured, maybe even ten.

He glanced at his watch. 11:08 am.

_Holy shit._

They'd been through everything twice already, maybe three times… or could it be four? He was so fucking tired he wasn't sure anymore. His eyes burned, his body sore and desperate for rest… desperate for this all to be over already.

"The last time you saw Isabella Swan was..."

"Around three," he muttered. "She was swimming."

"At three o'clock in the morning?"

"Yes. That's when she got out of the pool and wanted to play a game."

"Hide and seek?"

Judgment and skepticism poured from the detective's voice. Edward sighed exasperatedly, knowing how ridiculous it all sounded. "Yes, like I told you... she said she was going to hide somewhere and asked me to find her."

"And you didn't?"

"Didn't what?"

"You didn't find her?"

Edward's head shot up in annoyance, his eyes narrowed. _What kind of question is that? _"Well fucking obviously! If I found her, do you think we'd be here right now?"

The detective merely nodded as he jotted something down on his yellow legal pad. "And what was she wearing at the time?"

"Like I said a few minutes ago—just a pink bikini. It's, well… it's pink. I don't know how else to describe it. It's just fucking pink. She was still wet from swimming and well, she hadn't gotten dressed yet."

"Because she wanted to play a game."

Edward ran both hands through his chaotic hair, lacing his fingers together at the back of his head as he leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. "Exactly."

He'd told the truth... mostly, anyway, only omitting a few facts along the way. He admitted that they'd been drinking alcohol (obvious, given the house was covered in empty cans and tapped kegs) but he didn't mention how high they all had gotten. He didn't see the point—it would only get them all in more trouble. And when they found Isabella (he was certain they soon would), he had to save face so Charlie would let them be together.

_Long shot_, he thought. _The motherfucker hates me._

The detective leaned back in his seat and eyed Edward intently. "Where do you think Isabella went?"

"I don't know where she is."

"In your gut," the detective elaborated. "You know Isabella better than anyone. Better than her friends, better than her father, and certainly better than me. So where do you think she would've gone? Where do you think she would've hid?"

Edward shrugged slowly. "I've looked everywhere."

The detective started to speak again when there was a soft knock. Holding up a finger, silently telling Edward to wait a moment, he stood up and strolled to the interrogation room door. They'd gone in there for privacy and a bit of quiet, since the station was in utter chaos, but Edward was starting to feel trapped in that goddamn tiny room.

Frustrated, Edward let out a deep breath and peered across the table at the detective's notebook. Leaning forward, he narrowed his eyes, vaguely making out the last thing the man had written:

_Witness is defensive, borderline hostile at times. Hiding something? Might know more about Isabella's "disappearance" than he's telling me._

Edward groaned. "This is fucking bullshit."

He sat back in his seat, suddenly wide awake, as the detective turned back around and retook his seat. The man cleared his throat and started to speak again, but Edward cut him off.

"Are we done here now?" he asked. "I've told you all I know."

"Well, uh..."

"I'd like to go home now, if that's okay. I just… I want to go home. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure." The detective picked up his notebook as he conceded. "You're free to go at any time."

Edward stood up and took a few steps before hesitating. How the fuck would he get home? "Can you give me a ride?"

"Won't be necessary," the detective said, waving him away. "Your father's waiting for you right outside the door."

* * *

Dr. Carlisle Cullen sat stoically in a dark gray office chair in front of Detective Felix's desk, a mere fifteen feet from the interrogation room door. The moment Edward stepped out into the open, exhausted and squinting from the harsh florescent lights, his eyes met his father's, deep blue and still clouded with judgment.

Carlisle stood, brushing the imaginary wrinkles from his crisp button-down shirt, before he turned his focus to the officer. A warm, polite smile graced his lips as he nodded. "Detective."

The detective nodded slightly. "Dr. Cullen."

After the officer shuffled away, still clutching onto his legal pad, Carlisle turned right back to his son. The smile faded quickly as his eyebrows rose in silent question.

What the hell was he asking? Edward didn't know.

"What are you doing here?" Edward asked, taking a few steps forward.

"Your mother was concerned about you," he replied. "I told her I'd come check on things. You've been gone for a while, so she thought… well, _we_ thought…"

"That I was in trouble?" Edward muttered.

"Well, frankly, yes," Carlisle said. "I thought maybe you'd been arrested."

"Arrested?" Exasperation tore through Edward, awakening every part of him as he clenched his hands into fists. "I didn't _do_ anything."

The same anger that stirred inside Edward reflected back at him in his father's eyes. The calm blue whirled with rage, his lip twitching like an animal growling, but he managed to keep his outward composure. "You didn't do anything?" he ground out through clenched teeth, only loud enough for Edward to hear. "You threw a party at _my_ house—the house I built for your mother with money I earned busting my ass at work—without so much as even asking if it were okay. Did you think that was smart? Did you even stop to consider how it would reflect on me?"

"I didn't—"

"You invited people over to drink and do drugs," Carlisle spat. "_Drugs_, Edward."

"We didn't do any drugs."

Carlisle took a step toward him then, the movement so abrupt Edward flinched a bit. "Don't bullshit me, son. I'm a doctor for Christ's sake. You think I can't tell when somebody's high? You think these cops can't, either? You were all stoned! The house reeks like weed!"

Edward remained silent, having no idea what to say.

"Your hoodlum friends left my house in shambles, and that damn girlfriend of yours…"

Edward's eyes narrowed defensively. "What about her?"

"I told you she was no good for you," Carlisle said, matter-of-fact. "You should've listened to me, son, and you wouldn't be in this position."

Those words were like a slap to the face, the brutality and hostility in his quiet words knocking the breath right from Edward's lungs. He audibly gasped, his chest burning as he struggled to compose himself, tears stinging his tired eyes.

"How can you say that?" Edward asked, blinking rapidly in an attempt to fight off the tears. "My girlfriend is _missing_. She just… she fucking vanished."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Not mine."

Carlisle stared at him in silence, his expression a dead giveaway: he didn't agree.

"You're blaming me?" Edward spat. "Seriously? You're saying this is _my_ fault? You're seriously fucking… you're blaming me for what happened? You think I caused this?"

Edward's voice rose above the chatter of the police station, quieting everyone else down as they turned to look. A startling silence overtook the room as Edward glared at his father, waiting for a reaction, waiting for something… a something that never came.

Carlisle cleared his throat, once more brushing away imaginary wrinkles from his shirt before he pulled his keys from his pocket and turned around. Slowly, calmly, he strolled through the station without so much as saying another word.

Edward stood there for a moment, watching his father in utter disbelief. Running his hand through his hair, he grumbled under his breath as he begrudgingly followed behind, wanting to go home.

The two stepped out of the police station to cloudy gray skies, the sun nowhere to be found as the afternoon steadily approached.

_Nine hours_, Edward thought. _She's been gone almost nine hours now._

They climbed into Carlisle's Mercedes, parked in a spot not far from the front door. The air in the vehicle was stifling, thick with accusations and suspicion, unspoken words and unaired grievances. Carlisle started the car up as a few sporadic raindrops splattered the windshield. He turned on the wipers, and Edward cringed at the high-pitched shrieking sound as they rubbed against the nearly dry glass.

"I'm not trying to be cruel," Carlisle said, his voice quiet and body language shifting now that they were alone. His shoulders slumped, a hint of worry in his eyes as he peered at his son. "I'm just saying what everybody else is thinking."

"I didn't do anything to her. I wouldn't. I'd _never_ hurt her."

"I may know that, and you know that, but I'm not so sure everyone else does."

Carlisle subtly nodded toward the police station. Edward glanced out the windshield, his eyes connecting immediately with Detective Felix's. The officer stood there, puffing on a cigarette, brow furrowed, legal pad tucked under his arm.

_Might know more about Isabella's "disappearance" than he's telling me._

Those words ran through Edward's mind again, his stomach dropping as they truly sunk in.

* * *

**Sorry it took me so long to update. Thanks for your patience.  
**


	10. Chapter 9

AN: Thank you so much for reading! Truly. Unbeta'ed, as usual, so any and all errors you may stumble upon are solely my fuck ups. Many thanks to Bellasexeqtner for the WCs that keep me on track when I have 29374638 things to get written.

* * *

**2013**

In the end, death doesn't discriminate. It visits the mightiest warrior with much the same indifference as the weakest peasant in the land. It doesn't care what you look like, how old you are, what you've done with your life, or how much more you wanted to do. When it wants you, it gets you. You can't escape it—it's one of life's only assurances. We're not promised happiness, or wealth, or love, or success, but we are promised death. It's a guarantee.

Sometimes it saunters in slowly, methodically, taking its time, letting itself be known, making itself at home… other times it's a thief in the night, slipping in an open window, taking what it came for and leaving before you even know it was there.

It was a lesson Edward had learned years ago, but still, knowing that, a part of him always naively believed his father would live forever. Maybe it was because he seemed inhuman at times, almost robotic in nature, made of stone and utterly emotionless, or maybe it was just because, to a child, a parent always seems indestructible. But whatever the reason, skepticism simmered in Edward's vein as he slowly approached the old cemetery in Forks that dreary afternoon for his father's funeral.

Sporadic raindrops fell from the overcast sky, not a hint of sunlight anywhere to be found. The cemetery was quiet, only a few cars parked along the street outside, none of which he recognized. He wouldn't, though, he realized. A lifetime had practically passed, and he couldn't expect Alice to be driving the same little yellow clunker she'd gotten on her seventeenth birthday, or Emmett still to be mud-bogging in his big red jeep. And he certainly couldn't expect to see his father's shiny black Mercedes, although there was a small part of him that instinctively looked for it.

Right at the entrance, parked along the gravel path that wove through the cemetery, idled a lone marked police cruiser, the lights off. A vaguely familiar officer sat behind the wheel, his eyes fixated on Edward as he approached.

_Officer Biers_

Edward waited for the man to step out of the car, or roll his window down to address him, but he did neither as Edward passed. He simply sat there, watching, waiting… for what, Edward wasn't quite sure. Did he expect there to be a problem? Was he there to keep an eye on him? Charlie had given no indication that he even knew Edward were in town, so he didn't see why he'd be shadowed, but it didn't surprise him, if that were the case.

He kept his head down as he strolled down the path, freezing a few yards into the cemetery when he spotted the small gathering of people along the back. Not more than a dozen mourners stood around a casket, underneath an unmarked blue canopy tent. Although it had been over a decade, he recognized the faces in the crowd immediately:

Emmett

Rosalie

Alice

_Esme_

The moment he spotted his mother, clad in a simple black dress, her dark hair streaked with unfamiliar gray, Edward had to look away. A sharp pain stabbed at his chest, piercing and agonizing, stealing his breath away.

A strong, overwhelming sense of déjà vu swam through him. He swayed on his feet, blinking rapidly to ward off a sudden onset of tears. _Don't you fucking cry, Edward. Not now. Not here._

"Cullen."

Startled, Edward turned around, realizing Officer Biers had followed him, after all. He wore his dark police uniform, the shiny badge pinned against his chest.

"Officer." Edward sighed exasperatedly. "Did Chief Swan send you?"

"No… I'm here for personal reasons, not business."

Edward's brow furrowed. _Personal?_ "Look, I don't want any trouble. I didn't come here to cause any, or to stir anything up. That's the _last_ thing I want. I just want to get this over with so I can go the hell home."

"I believe you," he said, "but that's not what I meant."

Those words bounced around in Edward's head. "What?"

Officer Biers shook his head, his eyes darting over Edward's shoulder. "They're waiting for you. I think we should join them."

Edward turned back around, eyeing the small crowd. Officer Biers walked past him, strolling over to where Alice stood. He put his arm over her shoulder and gently pulled her toward him, kissing the top of her head.

_Personal_. Edward got it now.

Officer Biers whispered something to Alice, causing her attention to shift straight to Edward. The moment he made eye contact with his cousin a pang of guilt rocked him. Her eyes swam with tears, dread and sadness shining back at him.

Edward stopped again a few feet away and remained on the outskirts of the group, barely close enough to hear the service. It didn't matter what any of them had to say—his opinion of his father had been cemented long ago. Nothing would change it now.

Five minutes passed, maybe ten. Their words were jumbled in his ears, muffled and distorted as he withdrew further and further into himself. The incredulity slowly wore off, bit by bit, as he stared at the closed wooden casket, purposely avoiding everyone's concerned gazes.

It was real. Dr. Carlisle Cullen was fucking dead.

"Edward?" someone called eventually, sharply pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced over, meeting Emmett's eyes. The friendliness in them, the ease and familiarity, nearly made Edward involuntarily grin, but Emmett's words kept him grounded in place. "You got anything to say, man?"

That washed through Edward as his gaze shifted to the casket. _Keep your mouth shut_, his father had told him one scorching day that fateful summer, the sun's strong rays blindingly gleaming off a pair of shiny metal handcuffs. _Don't say another word_.

He glanced at Emmett after a moment of silence, seeing the expectation in his eyes. Slowly, Edward shook his head before looking away again.

No, he had nothing to say.

The service was quick, quiet and low-key. There was no preaching, no sobbing, no dramatic scenes. It was precisely how Carlisle would've wanted it: straight to the point, no bullshit.

That left a bitter taste in Edward's mouth.

Before it even wrapped up, Edward turned and wandered away. Pulling his pack of Camel Lights from his pocket, he lit one with shaky hands and inhaled, taking the harsh smoke into his lungs. It was easier this time—it still burned, but he didn't choke as the nicotine soothed his severely frazzled nerves.

He strolled down the path toward the other side of the cemetery, toward a Pacific Dogwood tree alone in the far back, near the crumbling stone wall surrounding the graveyard. He paused in front of it, tilting his head as he scanned the scraggly tree, eyeing the nearly unfilled branches, no sign of any blooms. _Shouldn't it have flowered by now? _The vast patch of cemetery was unmarked, filled with stray dandelions and rambunctious weeds, the grass knee high, completely unattended.

Edward flicked his ashes onto the gravel path behind him, not on the grass, before taking another long drag. _Why the fuck hadn't anyone taken care of it?_

"Isabella's grave."

Edward's closed his eyes at the sound of Emmett's voice behind him, his words like a punch straight to the chest.

"Memorial," Rosalie quietly corrected him. "It was her memorial."

"What's the difference?" Emmett asked.

"You have to have a body for it to be a grave."

Edward reopened his eyes to look at the tree. "You talk about her like she's dead."

Rosalie sighed. "We thought she was when we planted it."

They had. He couldn't deny that.

"_It_ looks dead," Edward said, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Shouldn't it be flowering already?"

"Soon," Rosalie said. "It hasn't bloomed at all for a couple years, though, so I'm not sure if it will. They've been hit with disease and a lot of them…"

She trailed off when Edward let out a deep, exaggerated exhale. "You haven't thought to come out here and do something about it?" he asked. "You couldn't at least pull the fucking weeds around the tree?"

"With all due respect," Emmett said, "you didn't bring your ass out here to do it, either."

He hadn't. Again, he couldn't deny that.

Strained silence settled between them momentarily. Edward finished his cigarette and stomped it out before turning around, startling when he saw Alice and the officer approaching, holding hands.

"Cullen," Officer Biers said, motioning toward the discarded cigarette butt. "That's considered littering. I've already let you off with one warning since you got to town."

Before the words were entirely out of his mouth, Edward reached over and snatched up the butt and slipped it in the pocket of his pants. "Yes, sir. And call me Edward. No more of that Cullen shit, Officer Biers."

"Edward," the officer said, holding out his hand. "Call me Riley."

Hesitantly, Edward reached over and shook the officer's hand. "Nice to meet you, Riley." He glanced around at Emmett, Rosalie, and Alice. "And it's nice to see all of you again, really. Been a long time."

"It has," Alice said, smiling. "Too long."

"Too long," Edward agreed. "And I wish I could stick around, you know, to catch up, but…"

Alice's smile abruptly fell. "You're not leaving already, are you?"

Edward ran his hand through his hair as he shrugged a shoulder.

"You can't," she insisted. "You just got here!"

"I didn't really plan on staying, Alice."

"But you haven't even spoken to your mother," she said. "She's going to be heartbroken!"

A sudden, harsh laugh burst from Edward involuntarily. "She'll survive."

"Ah, come on," Emmett said. "Don't be that way, Edward."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "_What_ way?"

"You know what way," Emmett said. "I mean, I get it, I do, but don't act like that. Today's not the day for it."

"Every day is," Edward said curtly. "Every single day in my life is that day, Emmett. It's _reality_. I'm not going to pretend the shit didn't happen when I can assure you, based on the way people in this town have looked at me the past twenty-four hours, that they haven't forgotten. They sure aren't going to _pretend_."

"No one's asking you to pretend it didn't happen," Alice said. "We'd never ask that. You know that, Edward."

"Then what are you asking?"

Emmett shrugged. "Be the bigger man."

"I am," Edward said. "That's exactly why I'm not staying, why I _can't_ stay. I don't want to make it harder on anyone, and me being here… me being in this damn town… is like lighting a fuse on a bomb. If I don't put it out quickly, everything's going to fucking blow up."

Riley's brow furrowed. "If you're afraid of running into—"

"Stop," Edward said, shaking his head. "Look, Officer Bi—uh, Riley… I'm quite sure if your boss knew you were even standing here with me right now he'd be furious, so don't act like me being here is fine, like the people in this town would be okay with me sticking around. I made a promise—a promise I broke. I damn near came face-to-face with Chief Swan this morning, and I'd rather not risk that happening again anytime soon. This town is just too damn small."

"At least come back to the house for a while," Alice said. "You don't have to stay. Just eat something before you leave. We're all going to my parent's place. It won't be anything formal, just friends hanging out. _Family_ hanging out. Okay?"

"I just—"

"Please?"

Edward stared into his cousin's pleading eyes, glossed over with unshed tears… tears that weren't forming because Carlisle Cullen was dead. These were for him… _because_ of him.

_Fuck_. He didn't want to hurt Alice. She'd been hurt enough by everything.

"Look, I'll think about it," he said, taking a small step back. "No promises, but I'll think about stopping by."

"Thank you," she said. "That's all I ask."

Before they could say anything else, Edward turned and strode away, heading for the cemetery exit. His stomach was in tight knots as nausea swam through him. He kept his head down as he reached into his pocket for another cigarette, shaking even harder than before. He passed the police cruiser near the front gates and stepped out onto the sidewalk, pausing as he pulled out his lighter. He flicked it a few times, trying to ignite it with unsteady hands.

Cursing, he flicked the lighter for what felt like the fiftieth fucking time before finally sparking the flame. He lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply when movement across the street caught his eye. He glanced over, every muscle in his body instantly going rigid when he peered into the small, dimly lit alley that lead to the old motel.

The lighter slipped from his fingers, hitting the sidewalk with a clank, the cigarette tumbling from his lips as he choked, whispering, "Isabella."

Something in his chest tightened and viciously burst as the theoretical bomb he'd tried to suppress suddenly exploded.

_KaBoom_

* * *

Ohhhhh shit.


	11. Chapter 10

AN: I wish I could kiss every single one of you for reading this slow burn of a story.

* * *

**2001**

Leaves rustled and twigs snapped beneath Edward's Nikes as he tramped through the woods, down an overgrown path he was certain hadn't been searched. His eyes were peeled to the ground, combing for footprints or something—_anything_—to give him some clue where the hell Isabella had gone that night.

One week…

Seven days…

168 hours…

10,080 minutes…

604,800… 604,801… 604,802 seconds…

He'd done the math early that morning, roughly punching at a calculator sitting on the cluttered desk in his bedroom—Isabella's calculator. She'd left it in his room by accident the last week of school when she'd snuck to his house, telling her father she was going to Alice's to study. They'd had sex twice that night, unbeknownst to his parents right downstairs, before she'd fallen asleep, completely naked and coated in sweat, in his arms. It was only after his father came upstairs and knocked on the door, swinging it open before she'd had a chance to clamber out of sight, that they'd been caught. Carlisle had been furious, a deeply familiar fury and disappointment simmering in his blue eyes, as Isabella hurriedly dressed and scampered out of there, leaving her fucking calculator on his desk.

It seemed inconsequential then, considering it was just a calculator, but as Edward jabbed the buttons on it that morning, adding up the hours, minutes, seconds he'd suffered since she'd vanished, a sense of irrational panic ran through him when he considered, for the first time, that he may never get a chance to return it. If they never found her, if she never reappeared, if something horrid happened—something Edward still couldn't fathom as reality—she'd never get her calculator back from him.

The calculator would be fucking homeless, ownerless, utterly alone and useless.

168 hours… Edward had slept maybe two of them.

He was beyond exhausted, hardly able to function enough to put together a complete sentence, too fixated on her disappearance to care about anything else. Borderline delusional, unreasonable, inconsolable… he'd practically ran out of the house, nearly forgetting to put on his damn shoes, and set off through the dense woods to search for her some more. The calculator was shoved in his pocket, clanging against loose change with every step he took.

As dusk approached, the woods darkening to the point where Edward couldn't see the ground anymore, he started the long trek back home. His legs hurt, barely able to withstand his weight, by the time he reached his vacant backyard. He ambled through the pitch black yard, toward the dark house, and cringed as the security light lit up, the bright light blinding him. He brought his hand up to shield his tired eyes as the back door flung open, his mother bursting out, eyes wild as she frantically clutched her chest. "Where have you been?"

Edward hesitated, something inside of him stirring at her anxious expression. _Hope_. "Why? Did something happen? Did they find her?"

Esme's face softened, a sympathetic frown tugging her lips that gave Edward his answer before she even spoke. _Fuck_. "No, I was worried about you. You've been gone all day!"

"I'm fine," he said tersely. "It's _her_ you should be worried about."

"I am worried about her," Esme said, a tinge of hurt in her voice. "We're all worried about her, Edward, but you… you can't just run out of here and disappear all day-no note, no phone call. I didn't know… well, I didn't think you would, but… it scares me half to death thinking you might…"

She didn't finish, but he could tell where she was going with it: _…you might do something really fucking stupid._

Without responding, Edward strode past his mother and into the house. It was silent inside, an open bottle of red wine on the kitchen table with a lone glass beside it, nearly filled to the brim. She was drinking alone…

"Dad go to work again?" Edward asked.

"He went to Seattle this morning," she replied quietly. "He doesn't know when he'll be home."

"Figures."

Edward snatched the bottle of wine off the table and took a swig of it, grimace at the bitterness as his mother gasped in shock. He ignored her, clutching the half-empty bottle as he started for the stairs to go to his bedroom.

"The world doesn't stop, Edward," she called after him. "It might feel like it, but it doesn't, baby. Life keeps going."

_No, you're wrong_, he thought, shaking his head as he stomped upstairs. _My world is fucking over without her in it_.

* * *

**Search Called Off for Missing Teenager**

_No sign of Forks Police Chief's daughter_

The search for a Clallam County teenager has been called off seven days after she vanished. Isabella Swan, 16, was last seen around 3 am at a residence in Forks with her boyfriend, Edward Cullen, 18. Search and Rescue, as well as teams of volunteers, scoured approximately 500 sq. miles of forest surrounding Forks and in the Olympic National Park, both by foot and by air, with no sign of the missing teenager.

Authorities with the Clallam County Sheriff's Office say the say the search was conducted primarily as a precaution and there was no obvious sign of foul play where Swan was reported missing. Although there is no reason to believe she's endangered, sources close to the missing teenager believe she had no reason to run away. Authorities yesterday said the search would be halted indefinitely, but teams will continue to follow up on any credible evidence. Anyone with information is urged to call the tip line.

Isabella Swan is described as being 5-foot-5, with long brown hair and brown eyes. She was last seen wearing a pink two-piece bathing suit.

* * *

Edward stood in the kitchen early in the morning, staring down at the front page of the Peninsula Daily News, the bold headline like a dagger to his chest. Beside the article was a photo of Isabella, one her parents had likely supplied to the newspaper. Edward's eyes trailed along it, taking in the sight of her smiling face, happiness radiating from the photograph. Tears obstructed his vision as he got lost in her eyes, so transfixed, so devastated by that goddamn headline, that he hardly heard the front door open and close down the hallway.

Footsteps started toward him, slow, steady. Edward sensed them at the last second and turned his head, catching sight of his father as he stepped into the doorway. Carlisle appeared exhausted, heavy bags lining his eyes like he hadn't slept in about a week.

Had he? Edward didn't know, considering he hadn't seen him much in days. After picking him up at the police station that first morning, Carlisle had gone back to work, slipping fluidly right back into his busy life like nothing happened… like no one he knew was missing, like the world wasn't fucking crumbling around his only child.

"Morning," Carlisle muttered, loosening his blue tie as he strolled through the kitchen to the coffee pot. Edward didn't reply, remaining stoic as he watched his father start brewing some coffee. Carlisle turned around eventually, raising an eyebrow as he stepped toward him. "Not talking today?"

Edward merely glared at him.

Carlisle regarded him with curiosity momentarily before his eyes drifted to the table. "Ah," he said, picking up the morning newspaper and eyeing the front page. "Tough break."

Edward's stomach lurched. _Tough break?_ "That's all you have to say?"

Carlisle pulled a chair out and plopped down in front of the table, stretching his legs out as he sighed exasperatedly. "What else would you like me to say, son?"

"I don't know," Edward ground out. "How about an 'are you okay?' Or an 'is there anything I can do for you?'"

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No."

"Tough break, then."

Anger brewed inside of Edward, boiling under his skin. His nostrils flared as he clenched his hands into tight fists, an act his father caught sight of. Carlisle raised his eyebrows again, almost tauntingly so, as he stared at Edward, quietly awaiting his reaction.

The reaction never came.

Esme strolled into the kitchen, wearing her silk robe and groggily rubbing her eyes. She stalled when she saw the scene in front of her, her gaze settling on her husband. "Carlisle! When did you get home, honey?"

Carlisle stared at Edward for a moment longer, practically daring him to pounce, before relaxing his posture and turning to his wife. "A few minutes ago."

Esme strolled over and poured two cups of fresh black coffee, bringing them to the table. She set one in front of Carlisle before sitting down across from him, her gaze settling on the newspaper. A soft involuntary cry escaped her throat when she read the headline on the front page.

"Oh, Edward!" She turned to him, shock and sadness in her expression. "This is just terrible! Are you okay, sweetheart? Is there anything I can do?"

Edward slowly shook his head as he reached into the pocket of his faded jeans, his hand grasping the calculator tightly as he looked down. His pants were filthy, his shirt still stained with spilled alcohol.

He hadn't even changed his fucking clothes since the night she disappeared.

One week and a day...

Eight days...

192 hours...

11,520 minutes...

691,200... 691,201... 691,202 seconds...

* * *

I'll try to update again on Friday with a "now" chapter, since I left you hanging on the last one.


	12. Chapter 11

**AN: Thanks for reading. Sorry I didn't update this chapter last week, got busy before vacation and it totally slipped my mind. Unbeta'ed, as usual, so there's no one to blame for the mistakes but little ol' me.**

* * *

**2013**

_Isabella Swan._

She stood in the shadows at the edge of the dim alley, as static and unwavering as a cold marble statue. She wore all black from head-to-toe—black pants, black top, and black flat shoes. Her long hair cascaded past her shoulders, naturally wavy, as her deep brown eyes bore into him from across the street.

She looked damn near just as Edward remembered.

She was older, definitely—more curvy in some places, thinned out in others, the baby-faced teenager replaced with the formed features of a twenty-something year old woman—but she was just as beautiful as she'd been the last time he'd seen her. It seemed so long ago, but yet it felt like no time at all had passed, a moment he remembered just like yesterday.

_The moment I said goodbye and walked away…_

He couldn't move. He felt like he couldn't _breathe_. He blinked a few times, half expecting her to disappear that split second his eyes closed, a figment of his fucked-up imagination, but she remained there every time he reopened them, a fixture in the alley right in front of him.

A war battled inside of him, a bitter debate ripping him apart. What was he supposed to do? What would he say? What _could_ he say?

'I'm so fucking sorry' just didn't seem good enough. It never did. It never would.

Almost instinctively, he reached up and clutched his chest, the spot over his heart with her initials inked into his flesh. At that moment he heard soft laughter along the cemetery path behind him. He turned, seeing Alice and Riley nearing, his heart racing under his palm at the sight of their approach. He turned back around to Isabella, so fast he nearly lost his footing, and froze.

The alley was deserted. _What the fuck?_

He didn't even give it a thought as he darted into the street without looking. A loud horn blared as tires skidded, a car nearly striking him head on. He didn't stop, didn't slow down as he ran through the alley, hesitating when he reached the other side. His gaze darted around, searching for Isabella, but he found no sign of her anywhere along the street.

_Where the hell did she go?_

"Isabella?" he shouted. "Christ, Isabella, where did you go now?"

Thirty minutes later, Edward stood alone in front of the old motel. Cursing to himself, he reached for a cigarette to calm his frazzled nerves. He pulled one out and stuck it in his mouth before digging in his pockets for his lighter.

_Shit_. He'd left it lying on the sidewalk outside the cemetery.

On edge, he glanced around for someone to ask for a light, finding the neighborhood vacant. Even the man working the front desk at the motel was gone, a paper clock hanging in the window, saying he'd be back a little after one in the afternoon.

_Just my luck today._

Running both hands through his hair, he let out a deep sigh. She'd been there. He'd seen her, clear as day, right in front of his eyes, but then she was gone again, vanished the moment he turned around.

_Déjà-fucking-vu._

Giving up, he climbed into his rental car, cursing at the newer vehicles and their lack of built-in lighters.

"The universe hates me," he muttered, cigarette still between his lips as he started up the car.

* * *

Emmett sat on the porch steps outside of Charlotte and Peter's house when Edward arrived a few minutes later. Edward hesitantly got out of the car, second-guessing even being there for a moment, but he strolled toward him slowly. He paused in front of his old friend, raising his eyebrows hopefully. "Please tell me you have a lighter."

"Sorry, man," Emmett said. "I don't smoke anymore."

Groaning, Edward plopped down on the porch beside him. "Figures."

"I'm surprised you still do."

"I don't," Edward said. "Well, I didn't, anyway... not until I came back here. Didn't have one for almost ten years, then I smoked half a fucking pack today alone."

"Stressed?"

"That's putting it mildly."

Emmett chuckled. "Well, I can't help you out with a lighter, but we can sure as hell get you a drink."

Edward smirked. "Even better."

They both stood up to head inside, but Edward hesitated when Emmett reached for the front door.

"She's in there, isn't she?"

Emmett's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"My mother."

Slowly, Emmett nodded. "Of course she is."

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Edward stepped through the door and into the house. Instantly, he was met with a barrage of warm greetings from people he'd guiltily avoided facing just an hour before.

His family.

He smiled politely, shaking hands and kissing cheeks, saying the things he knew was expected of him ('yes, it's great to see you' 'yes, I've missed you, too' 'no, I'm doing great' 'no, the shit doesn't fucking bother me a bit'). He'd nearly made it the whole way through the small crowd when a loud sob tore through the living room behind him. Everyone turned toward the noise, finding Esme in the doorway, her shaky hand covering her mouth.

She looked even older than she had at the cemetery.

Edward wasn't sure what to say as a strained silence infected the room, so he nodded slightly so not to make a bigger scene. "Mom."

The moment he spoke, the moment he acknowledged her, she flung herself at him, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stumbled, stunned, as she hugged him tightly, sobbing uncontrollably.

"My baby," she wailed. "Look how much you've grown!"

Edward patted her back awkwardly as she cried into his shoulder. She seemed so frail, so vulnerable...

"Okay, Esme," Charlotte yelled from across the room, her voice light and teasing. "Don't smother him. We haven't seen him in a long time, and we'd like him to stick around for a bit."

Esme cleared her throat and immediately backed up, her mascara running. She smiled sheepishly at him as she whispered, "sorry."

"It's fine," he muttered, immediately thankful for his Aunt Charlotte's intervening. He shot her a grateful glance, seeing the sympathetic look on her face. He knew she understood. Charlotte had been the one to stick by him that summer, to stand up for him, to fucking _believe_ him…

A pang of guilt struck him as he looked at her. She'd suffered, too. They all had.

"How about that drink?" Emmett declared, clapping Edward on the shoulder and pulling him past his mother, toward the kitchen. Edward sighed with relief when Emmett handed him a bottle of beer from the fridge, but he barely got the top off before he was accosted yet again. Alice burst in, heading straight for him, but there was no one around to spare him this time. Alice wrapped her arms around him as he took a drink.

"I didn't get a hug earlier," she said. "I thought you were going to leave town without giving me one."

Edward frowned, actually hugging her back. "I could never do that to you."

Emmett excused himself, slipping out of the kitchen and leaving the two of them alone. Alice pulled away from him, offering a watery smile as tears swam in her eyes. "I've missed you, cuz."

"You, too," he said, taking a long pull from his bottle as he eyed her peculiarly. He had. The others he'd told that to, maybe not so much, but he did miss Alice. "So Riley, huh? When did that happen?"

"About a year ago," she said. "He'd just moved to town and pulled me over for a broken tail light. He gave me a warning, I gave him my digits, and the rest is history."

"And Jasper? What happened there?"

Alice's smile fell. "We broke up a long time ago. After that summer, well, it was hard living in Forks. The whispers, the looks, not to mention the nightmares... Jasper had a hard time dealing with it. He decided he had to leave town to get away from everything."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

She shrugged. "It didn't feel right, just walking away. After everything, I felt like I needed to stay, that if I left I'd be abandoning the place... abandoning Bella. And I couldn't do that. As much as I may have wanted to, I couldn't leave."

An ache squeezed Edward's chest. "I left."

"Because you had to." Alice laughed dryly. "There's a difference—you were run out of town. They didn't blame the rest of us, but it still wasn't easy. And Jasper... well... he couldn't take it. Not after, well, you know..."

"I know." Edward quietly drank his beer, sipping down every drop before he gathered the courage to speak again. "I saw her today."

Alice blanched. "You did?"

He nodded slowly. "Outside the cemetery. She was there, but then she was gone again."

"I see her sometimes," Alice said. "Just here and there."

"Does it ever get easier?"

She shook her head.

Sighing, Edward set his empty bottle on the counter. Of course it didn't get easier. How could it?

* * *

It was around two when Edward had about his fill of family. He threw his second beer bottle in the trash as he turned to Alice in the kitchen. "I should really get going."

"Don't-"

"Look, I'm sorry," he said, cutting her off as he tried to explain. "I know it was wrong of me to distance myself from you guys—well, most of you—and I'm sorry if that hurt you, or made all of this shit harder for you, but I can't just stand around here all night."

"I know," she said. "I wasn't going to tell you not to leave. I was just going to tell you not to be a stranger."

"Oh." He smiled. "Well, that I can promise you."

Alice wrapped herself around his arm as the two of them strolled into the living room. Edward pulled out his keys, the jingling catching his mother's attention.

"You're leaving?" she gasped. "But you just got here!"

"I know." He made no apologies to her. "I have to go."

Charlotte jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. "Will we see you again?"

"Of course."

"Sometime soon?" she specified.

He sighed. "Define soon."

"Before I'm old and gray."

He gazed at her, a playful smirk tugging his lips. "Too late."

She nudged him, laughing, as the rest of the family said goodbye. Edward slipped out the front door, avoiding another awkward embrace with his mother, and found Riley and Emmett sitting on the front porch.

"You're leaving?" Emmett asked.

"Yeah, I need to get out of here."

"I don't blame you, man," Emmett said. "Give me a call sometime."

"I will."

Riley cleared his throat. "Haven't you been drinking?"

"Just had two beers."

"So you're okay to drive?"

"Yes, officer."

Riley smiled. "I'm not asking as a police officer... I'm asking as a guy who knows the chief would eagerly tase your ass if he ever had an excuse."

"Well, in that case…"

Edward jokingly held out his keys and jingled them. Before he could say another word, Alice bounded out onto the porch and snatched a hold of them, tossing the keys to Riley before Edward could stop her. Riley stood up and slipped them in his pocket, instead pulling out his own. "Come on, I'll give you a lift."

"You don't have to," Edward insisted. "I really am fine to drive."

"Not taking any chances," Riley said, turning around and starting toward the police cruiser parked along the curb. "Come on."

Edward shot Alice a glare as she smirked, pleased with herself. He stepped off the porch, shaking his head. _Bullshit_. "This is unnecessary."

Riley climbed behind the wheel and started the car up before looking at Edward expectantly. Hesitantly, he slipped into the passenger seat, the stench of air freshener thick in the air. He grimaced as he slipped on the seatbelt, feeling uncomfortable as Riley started driving. He fidgeted in the stiff seat, letting out a strained exhale as the leather creaked. "I don't know how you drive around in this thing every day. Talk about stifling."

"You get used to it," Riley said, shrugging. "The front seat is a lot more welcoming than the back seat, that's for certain."

"Yeah, well, I've been in both now, and neither are a bit of fucking fun."

Riley laughed softly but said not a word in response. He drove slowly across town, pulling the cruiser into the parking lot of the old motel. Edward stared at the office door, the open sign hanging crookedly against the grimy glass. "I was supposed to leave today."

"There's always tomorrow."

"The longer I stay here, the worse it'll be."

"Not true."

"It is."

"Look, I get why you feel the way you do, but—"

"No, you don't get it," Edward said, cutting him off. "No offense, Officer Biers, but you don't get a fucking thing. You weren't here then. You didn't go through what we went through… what _I_ went through. And I'm sure Alice filled you in on the details, and I'm more than fucking sure Chief Swan let his feelings about it all be known, but you don't know what it's like to have lived it. You don't know what it's like to be me."

"You're right," Riley said. "But what I do know is what I've seen living here, how no one in this town can seem to face reality. They all try to act like it never happened, try to avoid it, never want to talk about it… none of them, that is, except for _her_. She's the only one that's even tried to make sense of it, and maybe I'm wrong… hell, maybe it's not my place… but I think there's only one person who can ever help her understand."

Edward opened his mouth, wanting to reply but at a loss for words, when a female dispatcher came over the radio, calling for Officer Biers. Riley sighed, grabbing the mic. "I have to get back to work. It was good to meet you, Edward."

Nodding, Edward climbed out of the car and watched as Riley drove away. After a moment he turned around and trudged into the motel office, coming face to face with the clerk's judgmental eyes once again. Pulling out his wallet, his slapped his credit card down on the counter. "I need another room."

"Just until tomorrow?" the man grumbled.

"No." Edward sighed exasperatedly. "I think I might be staying a while, after all."


	13. Chapter 12

_AN: Many thanks for reading. Let's play a little 'Clue', shall we?_

* * *

**2001**

"Can you state your name for the record, please?"

"It's, uh, Alice Cullen."

"Miss Cullen, what's your relationship with Isabella Swan?"

"She's my best friend. She's also dating my cousin."

"Edward Cullen?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, now, on the night of the 25th, can you tell me where you were?"

"I was at Edward's house for a celebration. He graduated that day... so did my boyfriend, Jasper, and their friend, Emmett. And Rose did, too. A bunch of people we know did."

"And where was Isabella that night?"

"She was there, too. She was supposed to stay with me... we lied and told her dad she was spending the night at my house, but we went to Edward's instead."

"Why did you lie?"

"Because he wouldn't have let her go otherwise. I'm sorry we lied, but she wanted to go to her boyfriend's and the chief wouldn't have understood. He doesn't like them together."

"Do you know why?"

"No. I don't get it. They're great together. Perfect for each other, really."

"And when's the last time you saw Isabella?"

"It was around three in the morning. We were swimming, and then Jasper was chasing me, just playing around, you know? I saw her get out of the pool and go over to Edward. Next thing I remember is Edward saying he couldn't find her anywhere."

"Did Isabella ever express to you a desire to run away?"

"No way! She'd never! Well, I mean..." ***pauses***

"What?"

"She wouldn't _run away_, but she used to talk about wanting to get out of Forks, leaving with Edward, but she'd never leave _without_ him. You know?"

"Mmm-hmm. Well, I think we've about covered what we need to cover. Do you have anything you'd like to add, Miss Cullen?"

***hesitates*** "I don't know this for sure, but I think Jacob Black's in love with her. Like, really in love with her, to the point of obsessed. He's always following her around and finding reasons to stop by her house. Isabella told me about it. She was worried Edward would find out and get upset. Edward can have a bit of a temper, I guess, and she didn't want him to start a fight. So I don't know, but maybe he'll know something. He was there that night."

* * *

"Can you state your name for the record please?"

"Jacob. My name's Jacob Black."

"Mr. Black, are you acquainted with an Isabella Swan?"

"Yes. Bella's my... well, Isabella, I mean, but we call her Bella. She's a friend of mine. Our dads are friends."

"So you'd say you know her well?"

"Sure. Really well."

"When's the last time you saw her?"

"At the graduation party. It was... well, I'm not exactly sure of the time, sometime after midnight, but she was with her boyfriend."

"Edward Cullen?"

"Yes. They were out by the pool. That's the last time I saw her. With him."

"Can you tell me about Edward? Is he a friend of yours, too?"

"No, not really. I mean, we're cool, I guess-he invited me to his party, after all-but we're not close at all. He can be a bit of a prick sometimes. He's popular, used to date a lot of girls, so, well, we never really had much in common."

"He's a player, then?"

"Yes." ***pauses*** "Well, he was until her, anyway. I don't know about now."

"And Isabella?"

"She's devoted to him. He's all she ever talks about anymore... how much she thinks she loves him. It's sad because, well, I guess maybe he loves her too, but he doesn't deserve her. He never will."

"Are _you_ in love with her, Mr. Black?"

***scoffs*** "Of course not! Why? Did somebody tell you I was or something?" ***groans*** "It was Tyler, wasn't it? He's all the time lying about things."

"It was just a question. An observation."

"Well, I'm not. We're just friends. That's it."

"Okay. Well, do you have anything else you'd like to add before we wrap this up?"

"Just that I hope you find her soon, and I really hope she's okay. I can't understand why anyone would ever want to hurt Bella. She's just… she's special."

* * *

"State your name for the record, please."

"Tyler."

"Last name?"

"I'd rather not say."

***hesitates*** "Is there a reason for that?"

"Does there have to be?"

"Well, no." ***pause*** "Tyler, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Isabella Swan."

"Okay, but I don't know why. I hardly know the girl. I don't know what happened to her."

"Can you tell me when the last time you saw her was?"

"Uh, she was making out with Edward Cullen at his party. I didn't pay them much attention, though, because it's nothing new."

"So it's something you see a lot?"

"Of course. They don't get it on in the hallways or anything, but they aren't afraid of PDA. Never were. Cullen's always been that way with girls." ***laughs*** "Probably why the chief hates his ass so much."

"Chief Swan?"

"Yeah, Isabella's dad doesn't want them together. It wasn't a secret. Hell, _no_ man wants their daughter with Cullen."

"Do you think he's bad for her?"

"Naw, not really _bad_, but she has better options."

"Like Jacob Black?"

***laughs*** "yeah, sure, he's definitely one. But honestly, she could do a hell of a lot worse than Cullen, too. At least she's not messing around with that James guy. Man, what a sleaze."

***scribbles something down*** "Is this James guy dangerous?"

"Naw, I don't think so. He's more creep in a carpeted van, if you know what I mean."

"Uh… I'm afraid I don't."

***sighs*** "He's a bit of a pervert, but not the kind that would ever act on it. He's more of a 'take matters into your own hands' type."

"Ah, okay, well… do you have anything you want to add, Mr. uh… Tyler?"

"Just that it wouldn't surprise me if the chief did this, you know, took her and shipped her ass off to a convent somewhere to get her away from him. I'm sure he's heard the stories. Cullen's always was a bit of a freak."

* * *

"State your name for the record, please."

"James."

"Last name."

***hesitates*** "Witherdale. Look, am I in trouble or something? Do I need a lawyer?"

"No, Mr. Witherdale. As I've told you repeatedly, your presence here is completely voluntary. We would just like to have your statement on record."

"So, I can leave?"

"Well, yes, you can leave at any time, but I'd appreciate it if you could stay for a few minutes and just answer a couple questions about the night Isabella Swan went missing."

"I'm no snitch. You're not gonna get me to rat out my friends."

"Of course not. And frankly, I don't care about any of that. The drinking, the drugs... that's not my concern. In fact, it's completely irrelevant right now. My concern, Mr. Witherdale, is finding out what happened to Isabella."

"Look, officer, I don't know what happened to that girl. Last I saw her, she was hanging all over Cullen out by the pool. Those two, you know, have been going at it like fucking rabbits lately."

***clears throat*** "So as far as you know, her and Mr. Cullen have been intimate?"

***laughs*** "Fuck, _everyone_ knows that. Common knowledge, man. Cullen has a reputation. Why else would he put up with a sophomore if she weren't putting out?"

"Has Miss Swan been intimate with any other guys that you're aware of?"

"That tease? No. I tried once or twice, but she's so far up Cullen's ass she wouldn't give me the time of day. He has her wrapped around his finger. He says jump, she's gonna jump. She wouldn't do a damn thing without his okay."

"Would you call him controlling, then? Was their relationship tumultuous?"

***shrugs*** "Fuck if I even know what that means, but whatever... are we done here now?"

"Just a few more questions. Can you tell me what you were doing at around three o'clock that morning?"

"Well, I can tell you who I was doing, if that'll help." ***snickers*** "Me and this girl Vicki snuck off, had sex in the bed of a truck parked in front of the house. I think it was Jasper Whitlock's truck, I don't know. We finished, she bolted with her friends, I smoked a joint and ran into Cullen as soon as I stepped inside. He was whining about not knowing where his girl was."

"Does this Vicki have a last name?"

"I'm sure she does, but I don't know what it is. I think she said she was from Port Angeles, a cousin of Jasper's or something, so maybe it's Whitlock. I don't know. Wasn't trying to marry the girl."

"Okay, then. Do you have anything you'd like to add before you go?"

"Other than the fact that Cullen's a lucky bastard? Nope, that about covers it."

* * *

"State your name for the record, please."

"Jasper Whitlock, sir."

"Mr. Whitlock, how are you acquainted with Isabella?"

"She's my girlfriend's best friend and my best friend's girlfriend."

"So you know her well?"

"Uh… not really. We all hang out together, but her and I never talk much. Between Alice and Edward, Isabella never really has time for anyone else. Those Cullens are a handful, you know…" ***laughs*** "She stopped hanging around most of her old friends, like Lauren and Jessica and Jake. None of them really liked her with Edward, anyway."

"Do you know why?"

***shrugs*** "Jealousy? Edward had a thing with both Lauren and Jessica before Isabella even moved to town. They tried to scare her off, talking about wild things Edward used to do, but Isabella wasn't having it. She was head-over-heels, reputation be damned."

"Wild things?"

"Yeah, you know, in bed?" ***fidgets awkwardly***

"What sort of things are we talking? Fetish? Role-play? BDSM?"

"No, nothing like that." ***sighs*** "Look, I probably shouldn't have even brought it up. That's Edward's business. You just hear the stories sometimes, you know… kinky sex, public places, threesomes… but that's all in the past. He changed when Isabella came into his life."

"So he didn't do those things with her? No rough play? Nothing that could get out of hand?"

"No way." ***sighs*** "Forget I said anything about it, okay? It's not like that."

"Okay, so back to Isabella… when's the last time you saw her?"

"At the party. I saw her talking to Cullen beside the pool at around three o'clock."

"Did you see where she went?"

"No. She was there one minute and gone the next. But I was busy with Alice, so…"

"Mr. Whitlock, do you have a cousin by the name of Vicki?"

"Uh, yes… Victoria. Why?"

"Was she at the party?"

"Yeah, she was, for a while. She called me the next day, said she'd gone off with this guy named James Witherdale. I told her he was scum."

"Okay, well, do you have anything else you'd like to add?"

"Just that I don't know what happened to Isabella, but I do know Edward would never hurt her. She's everything to him."

* * *

"State your name for the record, please."

"Emmett McCarty."

"Mr. McCarty, when is the last time you saw Isabella Swan?"

"Uh, at Edward's house. I don't know what time... it was after midnight, I guess. We were swimming and then she got out of the pool to see Edward and just... disappeared."

"Were her and Edward fighting that night?"

"No, not that I saw."

"Did they ever fight?"

"Uh, I'm sure they did. All couples fight, right? But I never saw it when they did."

"So they were getting along at the party?"

"Yeah, of course. They were more than _getting along_, if you know what I mean." ***laughs***

"Yeah, I've heard. Mr. McCarty, would you say it's true that Edward Cullen has a bit of a temper?"

"A temper? Well, I don't know if I'd go that far, but he's a teenager… we all have tempers, right?"

"Did he know how to control his temper?"

"Well, yeah, sure. He's never been in any big fights or anything. His father would kill him if he ever got into trouble like that. Dr. Cullen expects him to be on the straight and narrow."

"So if he were to get into trouble, or maybe do something he shouldn't have done, something he'd regret, he'd probably keep it a secret, right? So his father wouldn't find out?"

"Yeah, I guess so. None of us really want our parents knowing when we mess up."

"True. So do you have anything else to add?"

"Just that I think something bad happened, man. We looked everywhere that night, and we've looked every day since then, and there's no sign of her anywhere. People don't just disappear into thin air, do they?"

* * *

"State your name for the record, please."

"Rosalie Hale."

"How do you know Isabella Swan, Miss Hale?"

"Our boyfriends are friends."

"Would you classify the two of you as _friends_, also?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

***sighs*** "Look, we don't know each other well. We were just starting to hang out together. I have cheerleading and she... well... she has Edward Cullen. A lot of girls have had him at some point, so I don't make a point to get to know every one he hooks up with."

"Are you saying their relationship wasn't serious?"

"Oh no, it was definitely serious. She had that boy pussy-whipped. He would've done anything for her. Hell, he was giving up everything for her."

"Was he giving up his dreams?"

***rolls eyes*** "More like his father's dreams. Going east for college, becoming a doctor... You know, walking in Dr. Cullen's shoes. Edward turned it all down to stick around Washington for her."

"Did that make Edward bitter? To have to sacrifice so much because of her?"

"No, not at all. I've never seen him happier. It was everyone else that got pissed about it."

"So it was a source of conflict?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Have you ever seen him take it out on her?"

"Uh, no. But like I said, I just started hanging out with Isabella, so I'm not really the one to ask about their personal issues."

"When's the last time you saw Isabella?"

"At the party. She was straddling Edward by the pool. I looked away for a minute, when I looked back, they were both gone. I figured they snuck off together, but then Edward popped back up and said she was missing."

"So Edward disappeared along with Isabella, but he eventually returned without her?"

"Uh, I guess you could say that. He was only gone for a few minutes, though."

"Hmmm. Well, do you have anything to add before we wrap this up?"

"Just that if somebody hurt her, I hope you make them pay for it."

"I full intend to, Miss Hale. That I can assure you."

* * *

Detective Felix sat behind his old wooden desk along the side of the quiet precinct, tapping his cheap black BIC pen against the crisp legal pad lying in front of him. Most of the officers were already gone for the day, the dispatcher reading a book as she waited for something to happen in the quiet, tiny town of Forks. Nothing ever really happened here—no murders, no robberies, very few assaults. Nothing, that is, until the night of the 25th.

The night Isabella Swan went missing.

Chief Swan's office was pitch-black and locked up tight, as it had been for days. He hadn't come to work, opting to use his stockpiled vacation days, but it didn't fool anyone into actually believing the man wasn't out there, hard at work on the case.

Detective Felix wondered where Charlie's thoughts were, if it was all leading him down the same path they were starting to go.

His eyes remained focused on the lines of the yellow paper as he scanned over the notes he'd taken. Eight hours he'd spent in that stuffy little interrogation room, questioning dozens of witnesses and potential witnesses, anyone and everyone that could've even remotely had contact with Isabella Swan in the days leading up to her disappearance. He scoured for clues, sought out answers, but always ended up right back at square one.

No one knew what happened to her.

The search had been called off. The tips led straight to dead-ends, and the calls had slowed from a trickle to a non-existent drip as one week slowly faded to two.

She'd been missing for fourteen days already.

The detective scanned his notes for what felt like the hundredth time in the span of twenty-minutes, hoping something would jump out at him. He'd narrowed it down to a few key people, those closest to Isabella who had seen her just moments before she disappeared. Their stories all matched, for the most part, and they all seemed to point him in the same direction.

_Edward Cullen._

Detective Felix wrote the name on the bottom of the paper and stared at it for a moment, considering how to proceed. Every single one of them had expressed the same thing: the last time they laid eyes on Isabella Swan, she'd been with Edward.

Sighing, the detective scribbled a lone word beside the boy's name.

_Suspect._

* * *

_AN: WHEW, that one was difficult, with all that dialogue. I'll try to get another finished this weekend. Let's just say next chapter will be a "beautiful" appearance ;)_


	14. Chapter 13

AN: Sorry for the delay in updating. It's been a hectic few weeks. I'll try to do better.

My paranormal romance book, Extinguish, was released... so you know, if you haven't got it, and you're into that kinda thing, it's available via Amazon and B&N. /shameless plug

Without further delay, here's the chapter. Unbeta'ed, as usual. ENJOY!

* * *

**2013**

A lot can change in the span of a decade: from bell-bottoms to tight rolls, from Jimi Hendrix to New Kids on the Block. Young kids, eighteen and optimistic, with the entire world wide open in front of them, turn into jaded adults, fast approaching thirty, long ago forgetting what it's like to throw caution to the wind.

But sometimes, very little changes, the world as it had been so many years ago still appearing the same. A little over a decade after the Gulf War ended, America was again knee-deep in fighting with Iraq. Long-held grudges remain intact, often festering, boiling over when it gets to be too much, and heartbreak runs deeper, never forgotten, rarely forgiven.

Because no matter the situation, a person doesn't change who they are at the core. Scars fade, and lighten, and sometimes change, but they never truly disappear... not even when given a decade.

As Edward strolled through Forks around dawn the morning after his father's funeral, his head low, his hands shoved in the pockets of his cargo khaki's, he noticed how much in Forks had stayed the same. Mrs. Cope's prized red rose bushes still aligned her bright yellow house; old man Laurent still delivered newspapers in a beat-up red Chevy truck; a crossing guard still stood on the corner near the main road, holding a stop sign and wearing a fluorescent orange vest; kids still cut through the cemetery on their way to school, strolling along the top of the stone wall and leaping over the marble headstones.

Edward wasn't surprised a quaint town like Forks would remain untainted by the world outside the city limits—after all, it was the reason Isabella used to talk about leaving the place with him and never looking back—but a small part of him was bitter that things hadn't fallen apart since he left.

_The world doesn't stop. It might feel like it, but it doesn't. Life keeps going._

His mother had told him that once, and he hadn't believed her at the time, but he saw evidence of it everywhere he looked. Life went on…

So why the fuck wasn't _he_ able to?

His steps were leisurely as he made his way across town toward his aunt Charlotte's house. He was too exhausted to do anything but stroll, sleep once again evading him the night before. The conversation with Riley continually swam in his mind, over and over, his cryptic words on a loop.

_They all try to act like it never happened, try to avoid it, never want to talk about it… none of them, that is, except for __her__. She's the only one that's even tried to make sense of it, and maybe I'm wrong… hell, maybe it's not my place… but I think there's only one person who can ever help her understand._

It took nearly an hour, Edward's legs sore by the time he reached the quiet, dark house, his rental car still parked right out front where he'd left it the day before. He approached it, hoping to escape the neighborhood undetected, and absently patted his pockets for the keys. He glanced in the side window, hoping they were dangling in the ignition, when it struck him—Officer Biers had taken them. "Fuck."

The front door of the house opened and closed as the word slipped from his lips. Edward's head shot up, seeing his mother step out onto the porch, barefoot and clad in a pair of silk pajamas. Jittery, she set a pack of rumbled cigarettes on the banister of the porch and lit one, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes as she quickly inhaled the smoke.

Edward gaped at her, stunned. _When the fuck did she start smoking?_

Esme reopened her eyes, freezing as she instantly met Edward's gaze across the yard. "Son?"

He nodded, contemplating his next move, before slowly strolling toward her. "Mother."

Panic etched her features as her hand flew behind her back, shielding the cigarette from him. The smoke filtered out around her sides, encompassing her in a wispy, toxic haze. He let out a sharp laugh at the absurdity and stepped up on the porch, grabbing her pack of cigarettes and pulling one out for himself. He snatched up her lighter and lit it. "Thanks."

"Well, uh… of course." She eyed him warily as he puffed on it. "I don't usually smoke. It's just that, well…"

"You don't need to make excuses," Edward said. "I don't care."

Esme's eyes intently followed him as he strode back off the porch and took a few steps, lingering on the pathway between the house and the sidewalk.

"I'm glad you're here," she said quietly, a hint of tentative hope lacing her voice. "I thought you'd leave town before I had a chance to talk to you."

His tone was clipped as he replied. "Yeah, well, I just came to pick up my car. I didn't know _you'd_ be here."

"Oh." Her expression fell. "After burying your father, well… I didn't want to be alone, I guess."

"You never really did, did you?" Edward asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. The smoke burned his lungs more than ever before, like a fire raged beneath his ribcage, suffocating him, bitterly strangling his words as he forced them from his lips. "You couldn't stand the thought of being alone. But what about me, huh? Did you ever stop to think that maybe I needed you? That maybe _I_ was alone?"

"You were never alone."

"Bullshit," he spat, the fire in his chest flaring out and sizzling beneath his skin as it spread through his body. Boiling hot anger seized his insides as he fought to keep himself calm, but her words were just gasoline to the flames. _You were never alone_. "Actually, you know what? You're right. I wasn't alone. I had Aunt Charlotte, and Alice, and I had my friends, but I sure as fuck didn't have my parents."

"Edward, please…"

"No, you wanted to talk, Mother, so let's talk about it." He threw his cigarette down and stomped it out, unable to tolerate the burn in his lungs. Even nicotine wouldn't be enough to soothe his nerves now. Turning to her, he raised his eyebrows. "Where were you that summer when I was mourning? When I was _heartbroken_? Where were you when I was trying to pick up the pieces, when I was trying to keep it together, when everyone in this fucking town just wanted to break me even more? Where were you when they blamed me? Huh? Where the fuck were you then?"

"I was there!"

"Yeah, but not with me," he said, shaking his head. "You weren't there for me."

"I tried!" The words came out as a strangled sob as she tried to hold herself together, her lip quivering as tears streamed from her eyes. "I was heartbroken, too! I'm still grieving!"

"Don't give me that shit," he spat, narrowing his eyes as he pointed at her, his anger flaring again. She balked like a scolded child, something akin to fear flashing in her eyes. "Don't talk to me about your fucking heartbreak. This shit isn't about you. It never was."

Esme stammered, trying to force out a response, when the front door opened behind her. Charlotte burst out, clutching a robe tightly around her, her hair a mess. "What's going on out here? I heard the commotion."

"What's going on is that my mother here wants to talk to me about her broken heart," Edward ground out, taking a few steps backward, away from the porch, away from them. "Like I give a fuck how she _feels_."

"Edward," Charlotte warned, stepping off of the porch toward him. "Calm down."

"Calm down?"

"Yes, you're being irrational."

"I'm being irrational? She's the fucking irrational one!"

"Look at it from her eyes. She's just… she's coping. Give her a break."

He shook his head as a car pulled up to the curb behind him. Glancing back, he watched as Alice climbed out, her brow furrowed as she looked around at all of them.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Edward's just a little upset at Esme."

Alice sighed. "Again?"

"You know what?" He threw his hands up in exasperation as he moved away from them. _Not Alice, too._ "I'm done with this conversation. I'm beginning to think Jasper was the only fucking one who had any sense around here, considering he got the fuck out of this place. You guys can forgive and forget all you want, but not me. I'll never forgive, because I'll sure as fuck never be able to forget."

He turned away from them, striding right past his rental car, and hollered over his shoulder, "Tell Officer Biers to drop my keys by the motel. I'll get my car later."

* * *

Edward's exhaustion was long forgotten as he stormed away from his aunt's house, strong anger stirring deep inside of him. His steps were hurried now, clenched fists shoved in his pockets as his gaze remained fixed on the sidewalk. He had no destination, no sense of direction, his legs just determined to carry him as far away from all of them as possible. He didn't want to go back to the motel yet, just the mere thought of holding up in that tiny room nearly suffocating him.

So he just walked… and walked… and walked.

This time, as he navigated the streets of Forks, he saw nothing, noticed not a thing going on around him. His surroundings were nothing but a haze as he withdrew further into himself, drowning in rage. It was exactly why he hadn't wanted to come back to Forks in the first place, why he hadn't seen any of them in years. His anger was too much, his confusion even deeper. How could all of them be so calm? How could they expect _him_ to be calm?

Riley's words once again seeped into his thoughts as he walked, and before he knew it he was standing in front of the old cemetery. Running his hands through his hair, he glanced around, seeing the area was vacant. He started to cross the street but hesitated, something stirring inside of him, mixing with the anger. Was it curiosity? Maybe it was simply instinct, something nagging at him, urging him inside.

So after another moment of hesitation, he turned around and stepped into the cemetery. He walked with purpose now, heading straight to the back where he'd stood less than twenty-four hours before, to the freshly dug grave of his father. The blue canopy tents were gone, nothing to mark the spot except for the dense brown dirt marring the lush grass. There was no marker, no headstone to signify who was beneath, but there didn't need to be. He was fairly certain everyone in town would know Dr. Carlisle Cullen was buried there.

Silence surrounded him as he stared at it in a trance. Why had he come? He wasn't sure. It wasn't as if he had anything to say to his father—he'd said it all years ago.

Hadn't he?

Ten minutes passed, maybe twenty, before he abruptly turned around and walked away, feeling absurd for even going there in the first place. He muttered angrily to himself as he walked, again finding himself standing at the cemetery entrance. He took a step toward the street, glancing at alley across from him, and abruptly stopped.

_Déjà-fucking-vu._

Isabella Swan

He let out a deep exaggerated sigh, this one full of frustration. _Again?_

She wore different clothes—a pink tank top and a pair of distressed jeans—but otherwise looked exactly the same as she had yesterday. The same blank expression covered her face, a tinge of hesitation in her deep brown eyes that even Edward could detect from across the street. He shook his head, expecting her to vanish again as he closed his eyes, but she didn't.

No, this time she came toward him.

He stood frozen as she carefully crossed the street, heading right for where he stood. He blinked in shock as she closed the distance between them, the uncertainty in her eyes eventually shrouding her expression. At the last second she diverted, stepping onto the sidewalk near him and spinning away fast like she planned to bolt down the street. She made it a few steps, her back to him, when he was jolted into action.

_Not this time._

"Wait!"

Her legs abruptly stopped moving and she seemed to flinch at the sound of his voice, her shoulders slumping as her body folded into itself. Slowly, carefully, she turned back around, her expression cautious as she regarded him apprehension.

He instantly regretted stopping her as he stared into her eyes. What the fuck was he supposed to say?

"Look, I, uh…" He paused as she bit down on her bottom lip nervously. She didn't want to be there, he realized. She was uncomfortable. "I mean, I just… I'm—"

"I know."

That voice. That soft, sweet voice. He hadn't heard it in so long, but the sound of it rocked him to the core, striking a part deep down inside of him that would never ever forget the sound of it—the _feel_ of it. Suddenly, a flood of emotion washed through him with memories of a lifetime ago.

He wavered. "You know?"

"Yes." She relaxed ever so slightly as she took a step toward him. "Edward."

His eyes involuntarily closed at the sound of his name on her lips. "Bella."

"I loved you more than life itself." Her voice was barely a whisper. "You were my first love. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You were everything to me."

Silence took over. Edward reopened his eyes and stared at her as those words ran through him, barely having time to let them sink in when she spoke again.

"At least that's what everyone _tells_ me."

No, a person never truly changes at the core, no matter the situation, but sometimes… _sometimes_… they forget who they are.


	15. Chapter 14

AN: Unbeta'ed, as usual, so any mistakes are mine alone. Thanks for reading.

* * *

**2001**

Edward sat on the quiet front porch of his house, elbows propped on his anxiously bouncing legs. His head was dropped low, his eyes fixed on the step between his feet. There was a strong breeze today, stirring the trees surrounding the house, the rustling leaves and brush the only sound outside. Rain was coming; he could tell it by the thick gray clouds that hovered above, blocking out every fleck of sunshine.

It had rained nearly every day since Isabella disappeared three weeks ago, and every time it did, all Edward could imagine was her out there somewhere, all alone, drenched—cold and shivering, suffering and in pain.

Was she? He had no fucking idea anymore. He wanted to imagine her safe and warm, but he knew the odds of that were slowly dwindling.

The wind whipped a lone yellow strip of crime scene tape around. It was tied to a tree branch along the edge of the property, the last leftover tangible piece of the investigation. It twirled in the breeze, ripped and jagged, already fading from the weather. Part of him was surprised his father hadn't taken it down and disposed of it, just to remove the reminder of what had happened those weeks ago, but he wasn't sure his father had even noticed it, to be honest. He sure as fuck hadn't been around enough to.

The driveway and yard in front of him was vacant except for the bicycle lying along the side. Both of his parent's cars were gone—his father, off working God knows where, or whatever the hell he did when he wasn't home, and his mother, off on her daily visit with Isabella's mother, Renee—and his car was in the garage collecting dust, a tan cover over top of it. His father had taken his keys, forbidding him from leaving the house.

Grounded for a month for throwing the party, he'd said, for trashing his house and bringing alcohol and drugs around. Edward had laughed in his face at the punishment. His girlfriend was gone; his life was fucking over. What was a little grounding? It didn't stop him from scouring the woods, from searching for clues. He didn't give a shit about going into town. In fact, he hadn't been since he'd left the police station the morning after, when Detective Felix had questioned him for hours on end.

But the longer he sat at home, alone, in the quiet, cut off from civilization, the more restless he grew. He was driving himself toward a break down, wallowing in self-pity and drowning in sheer fucking terror.

Terror, because she still hadn't been found, and he was starting to really fear she never would be.

"Here," Jasper said, snatching a can of Bud Light from the plastic six-pack ring and handing it to Edward. "Drink one, man. You're wound extra tight today."

Edward glanced at Jasper, his only visitor this week. His other friends had popped up once or twice, but he wasn't the most pleasant company. In fact, he was quite fucking unpleasant to be around. They knew it, and he knew it, and they kept their distance for that reason, giving him his space. But not Jasper. Jasper showed up every day like clockwork on his bike, just sitting on the porch in the middle of the afternoon, usually with a six-pack of cheap beer he'd convinced the man at the store in town to sell him. Sometimes they talked; sometimes not a single word was spoken. He'd hang around until the beer was gone, or until it was time for Edward's mother to return, and then he'd leave again until the next day.

It was a routine, a semblance of normalcy in the midst of a whirlwind of fucking nothingness. Edward resented it—the need for everyone to make things normal again—but at the same time, he appreciated the gesture. It gave him something else to focus on. Something to look forward to.

Edward grabbed the beer and opened it, taking a sip of the bitter, warm liquid. "Thanks."

"Of course," he said, holding his own can up in a sort of salute. "Anytime."

"So, how's Alice?" Edward asked, making small talk. Today the silence was grating on his nerves.

Jasper let out a deep sigh. "Well, she's not grounded anymore." Alice's parents had grounded her for three weeks for lying to the Chief about where they'd been that night. "But she's not really in the mood to go anywhere, anyway, so it doesn't really matter, I guess. She's struggling."

Edward frowned, guilt nagging him. Jasper glanced at him, obviously knowing where his thoughts were going, and shook his head.

"You can't blame yourself. You didn't do anything wrong. Hell, you're worse off than the rest of us. But Alice, she's sensitive, you know… wishes she could do more to help… and the detective hauling her in certainly didn't help."

Edward tensed at those words. "Detective Felix?"

"Yeah, he pulled us all in to ask us questions," Jasper said, sitting his empty beer can down on the steps and he leaned back on his elbows. "He mainly asked Alice about Bella and whether or not she'd run away. Nothing bad—he wasn't accusing her of anything—but it sorta sent her in a tailspin, wondering if maybe she missed something, if there was some clue she hadn't seen… that maybe Bella _would_ run away."

"No way," Edward insisted, shaking his head. His grip on his beer tightened. Run away? _Fuck no._ "Bella would've never just left like that."

"That's what I told Alice, but you know how she is. She doesn't want to believe something terrible happened, and, well… let's be honest. Her running away is the best outcome at this point."

Edward said nothing, knowing that was true, but not wanting to admit it. He finished his beer in silence before tossing the can aside and grabbing another. Jasper was down to only one now… Edward knew that meant he'd leave soon.

"What about you?" Edward asked. "What did he question you about? You and Bella weren't all that close."

"I know," he replied quietly. "He mainly wanted to talk about you."

Edward's brow furrowed. "Me?"

"Yeah, about the girls you used to date, the things you get into. Guess he was just trying to get a feel of your relationship with Bella. Then he asked me about Victoria."

"Victoria?"

"Yeah, you know, my cousin? She showed up for awhile that night. He asked me if she was there. I guess James must've mentioned her."

Edward blinked rapidly as that sunk in. "James."

"Yeah. She hooked up with him earlier that night. The detective was probably trying to confirm that."

"You don't think…?" Edward shook his head. "Fuck, maybe the detective thinks James knows something."

"It's possible."

"You don't think he would've hurt Bella, do you?"

Jasper's silence spoke volumes to Edward.

"That motherfucker." Edward jumped up as a sudden surge of panic ran through him. Him and James were never particularly close. In fact, Edward never really liked the guy. But James had connections, and in a tiny town like Forks, there were only so many avenues you could go through to get weed. "I saw him that night when I was looking for Bella. He came in through the front door, stoned off his ass. I asked him if he saw her."

"Did he?"

"No. No one did."

"Look, I'm not saying James did or didn't do anything, but I talked to Vicki after I left the police station, and she swears she was back home in Port Angeles before three. So I'm just saying…"

He didn't finish, but he didn't have to. Edward knew what he meant. He suspected James, too.

"Do you think the police suspect him?" Edward asked. "Do you think they're investigating him?"

"Wish I knew," Jasper muttered. "Wish I knew."

Edward stood there for a moment before sitting right back down. There wasn't a damn thing he could do right now, especially having no way to get anywhere. And even if he could, what the hell would he do? Go to James; ask him what he'd done? Like he'd actually confess anything to him?

"I just wish we had some fucking answers," Edward said. "I wish we had _something_."

They sat in silence for a few minutes again, finishing their last beers. They were nearly empty, late afternoon turning into early evening, when the distinct sound of a car approached on the road beyond the woods. It slowed, turning carefully onto the gravel road winding through the trees, leading to the house. Jasper shot Edward a concerned look, but he just shrugged it off.

"Probably my mother," he replied, casually taking a swig from his beer. She wouldn't say anything to them—she never did. Hell, Edward wondered if she ever even noticed they were drinking, considering she always fled inside without even looking at him, despite the fact that she had to step between them to get inside. She always shielded her face, he assumed to hide her tears. Being with Renee always made her a wreck.

Jasper relaxed again, taking a drink of his beer as the car approached. It reached the clearing and Jasper's eyes widened, beer spewing from his mouth and nose as he choked. He scrambled to hide the cans, throwing them in the bushes as he cursed, shoving Edward in an attempt to get him to do something, but Edward didn't move. He remained still, staring straight ahead. His fist tightened around the beer can clutched in his hand, bending the aluminum, but he didn't drop it. He didn't let go of it. It was pointless.

They'd been busted.

The car came to a slow stop near the porch and the driver's side door opened. Boots hit the driveway, the crunch of gravel seeming to echo through the yard. Edward's heart raced, knowing he was in a heap of shit, but his face didn't betray him. He stayed calm as they leisurely approached.

When they stopped right in front of him, Edward cautiously glanced up, his eyes meeting a pair of deep brown ones. So fucking familiar, eyes that made his chest ache… eyes the man shared with a daughter… a daughter Edward was terrified he'd never see again.

Edward nodded slightly in greeting. "Chief Swan."

Chief Swan didn't nod. He offered no greeting. His gaze scanned Edward deliberately, his eyes narrowed as he seemed to study every inch of him in detail. He lingered on the bent beer can for a moment before turning his attention to Jasper. "Whitlock."

"Chief, sir," Jasper said immediately, flinching when the man addressed him. There was no emotion in his voice.

Chief Swan's gaze shifted right back to Edward. "Is this how you show your concern for my daughter? Drinking? Partying?"

"I'd hardly call this a party," Edward muttered. "We're just-"

"Just being disrespectful, as usual. You have no regard for authority, do you? No respect for the value of life."

"I do," Edward insisted, grinding his teeth together.

Chief Swan's attention turned back to Jasper then. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't be happy to know you've been drinking, son."

"Uh, no, sir. They wouldn't be."

"Then get out of here before I decide to give them a call."

Jasper hesitated for a moment, shooting Edward an apologetic look, before jumping up and jogging over to his bike. He booked out of there, and Edward knew he'd make the three-mile trip home in no time.

Edward's heart managed to race even more once his friend disappeared, leaving him alone with the chief. Slowly, he set the beer can down on the porch, his eyes meeting Isabella's father again. The man just stared back, his expression stoic.

"Is there something you want?" Edward asked hesitantly. "If you're going to drag me in for underage drinking, we might as well get it over with so I can call my dad."

"I'm off-duty," was his only response.

"Okay," Edward said after a moment. "Then what do you want?"

"What I want," Chief Swan said, his voice raising a bit with anger, "is to know where the hell my daughter is."


	16. Chapter 15

AN: Hey, yo... sorry I didn't get to update before I headed off to FL. Hope this was worth the wait (I know, you've been waiting since day one for the moment ahead). Thanks for reading. Unbeta'ed, as usual, so blame my wonky fingers and brain, and not anybody else for any mistakes.

* * *

**2013**

Time stood still.

Edward stood there, staring into Isabella's deep brown eyes, as the words she spoke seemed to hover in the thick air between them. All was still, absolute silence taking over the street surrounding the cemetery. It was eerie. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, prickling, as his stomach twisted into tight knots when it all sunk in.

_At least that's what everyone tells me._

Those words… those words were a fucking nightmare.

A fucked up, naked in front of the class, everyone pointing at your cock and laughing because the motherfucker shrunk a few inches kind of nightmare, Edward thought. He'd hoped… no, he'd fucking prayed… when she'd spoken his name, that somehow she'd remembered it all. Somehow, she'd know, and not just because someone had told her.

But it was clear by the cautious look in her eyes that she hadn't a clue of who he really was. She knew the caricature, the picture everyone had drawn for her of him in his absence, but that wasn't truly him.

He wondered if she, too, were the same way. Did she even know herself? Or was she who everyone told her she'd been—Isabella, the perfect student, the only child of the police chief and his wife, the girl who was going to be a teacher someday and work with little kids? Edward had been one of the few who knew her at the core—silly, awkward Bella, who made passionate love like a woman yet giggled like a schoolgirl, who truly dreamed of writing books and traveling the world. They were sides of her she'd never shown others.

"I, uh…" Edward was still at a loss for words. "I don't know what to say."

Sighing, he ran a hand awkwardly through his messy hair. The truth worked, right? He was fucking speechless. She was there, standing a mere few feet in front of him, and he'd lost his voice.

_Figures._

She smiled softly, the uncertainty fading away to something else. Sympathy? Pity? "You don't have to say anything."

"But…"

"I mean, that was a long time ago," Isabella said, casually waving it off as she took a small step away. "We're practically strangers, right?"

"Right," he said, drawing out the word as he took a step toward her, not letting her get any further away. "Except, well, we're really not. Not to me, anyway."

He took another few steps toward her, quickly closing some of the distance between them. His approached seemed to make her panic spike, and she hastily retreated, her shoe catching in a crack in the sidewalk. She tripped backward, flailing her arms as she started to fall. Edward realized what was happening and darted forward, snatching a hold of her before she hit the ground. He yanked her back to her feet, nearly losing his balance in the process. Their bodies collided, Isabella's eyes widening with shock as she braced her hands against his chest to push away. "Crap."

Edward let go of her once she was steady. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just such a klutz," she muttered, smoothing her shirt as she avoided his eyes, her cheeks flushing to a soft pink.

"You always were," Edward replied. "You used to trip over your own feet all the time."

"It's so annoying," she replied. "And embarrassing."

"Nah, I always thought it was endearing," he said. "It was just who you were… or _are_, I guess."

Slowly, her gaze lifted to meet his again. She stared, eyes narrowed for a moment, as she seemed to study him intently. "It's so weird."

"What?"

"You."

An abrupt laugh came from Edward. "I'm weird?"

"Well, not you, yourself," she explained. "It's just that I know I know you, but I really don't _know_ you… but you do know me." She sighed exasperatedly and shook her head. "That probably doesn't make any sense."

"No, it makes perfect sense," he replied. "I thought the same thing."

Neither said anything for a moment, their eyes still connected. The air between them grew even thicker as awkwardness surrounded the two of them. The street seemed to come alive again, voices nearby as kids cut through the cemetery. Time moved again. A stream of cars steadily drove past, but neither Isabella nor Edward made a move to leave.

"Are you, uh… are you done here?" Isabella asked eventually.

"Here?" Edward asked, raising his eyebrows curiously. _Here, as in Forks? Did she want him to leave?_

"Yeah, you know, here," she said, waving toward the cemetery.

"Oh." Edward glanced down the path at the entrance, the one that led to his father's grave. "Yeah, I think so."

"Well, do you want to, I don't know…" She paused to bite her lip. "Do you want to get lunch or something?"

He just stared at her. Lunch?

"You don't have to," she said quickly, barely even giving the chance to respond. He could tell she was nervous. "I just thought if you were done we could maybe talk. You know, since you know me, and, well…"

It seemed to click with Edward as he stood there, Officer Biers' words yet again running through his mind. _They all try to act like it never happened, try to avoid it, never want to talk about it… none of them, that is, except for her. She's the only one that's even tried to make sense of it, and maybe I'm wrong… hell, maybe it's not my place… but I think there's only one person who can ever help her understand._

"Yeah, sure," he said, glancing around. "Sounds great."

* * *

The diner in Forks was only a few blocks away from the cemetery. Isabella walked swiftly, her head down, eyes peeled to the ground, while Edward strode behind her. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his pants, while his eyes steadily scanned the street around them. Anxiety ran through his veins, pumping with the blood in his rapidly beating heart. It didn't feel real as he opened the door for her, their eyes briefly meeting again, a small smile on her lips. The nightmare he'd felt he was in just a few minutes earlier was now an elusive dream… a dream he felt he'd had hundreds of times the last few years.

Isabella stepped inside the diner, a woman's voice instantly greeting her. "Morning, Miss Isabella."

Edward stepped in behind her, the bell on the door steadily dinging as it closed. The sound seemed to echo through the diner as a dozen pairs of eyes drifted directly toward them, warm smiles and happy faces morphing to looks of pure shock, and even a hint of hatred from some of the patrons. Edward could instantly feel the air shift, the welcoming atmosphere turning the second they noticed him standing there.

Isabella seemed oblivious to the change, the smile still on her face as she addressed the waitress. "Hey, Angie. Two today."

Turning, Isabella headed toward the back of the diner. Edward's eyes carefully scanned the faces again, vaguely recognizing a few of the men as old friends of his fathers. No one he'd specifically remember, but it was obvious they remembered him.

_Who the fuck didn't? Oh, right…_

He nodded politely, not bothering with words as he followed Isabella to a booth. He slid in across from her, exhaling deeply as the waitress approached. "What can I get you to drink?"

"The usual," Isabella said. "Chocolate milk."

Edward could feel the waitress's eyes on him. Glancing up, he saw the grimace on her face, the thin line of her lips and narrowed eyes. Unhappy didn't begin to cover it. She was fucking fuming. "I'll take the same," he muttered as she tossed two menus down on the table.

"I'll be right back with your drinks."

She took a step back, still staring at him, and seemed to have to physically force herself to walk away. Edward shook his head, wanting to crawl out of his own skin to disappear, and tugged at the collar of his shirt. The diner felt muggy all of a sudden, and Isabella still seemed oblivious to it.

Angie, the waitress, returned in less than a minute and slid two chocolate milks on the table. "Are you ready to order?"

"I'll have my usual," Isabella said offhandedly.

Angie cut her eyes at Edward. "And you?"

He shrugged. He hadn't even looked at the damn menu. "I'll take the same."

The waitress nodded and continued to stand there, glaring at him. After a moment, her gaze sifted to Isabella, a tense smile lifting her lips. "What are you up to today?"

"Not much," Isabella replied. "Just catching up."

"Huh," was Angie's response. She stood there for a moment longer before grabbing the menus with a sigh. "Well, I'll bring your food out in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Angie," Isabella said, watching her as she walked away. Once the waitress was gone, her attention turned to Edward. "You don't even know what you ordered."

His brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"I ordered my usual, but I didn't say what it was," she said, matter-of-fact. "You just said you'd have the same."

He contemplated that for a moment before relaxing in the seat. He could see the challenge in her eyes, the curiosity and hope dwelling inside of her. He hoped like hell he didn't disappoint her. "Lasagna," he replied. "Garlic bread and a salad. Ranch dressing, fat-free."

An awestruck look took over her face. "How do you…?"

_Score one for me._

"Just took a chance," he said, taking her reaction as confirmation. "It's what you used to order when I brought you here."

"But that was a long time ago," she said.

"Apparently not too long," he replied, "considering you still order the same thing."

They sat in silence for a moment before the waitress returned, setting two small salads on the table, along with a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch. Isabella grabbed the bottle of salad dressing and unscrewed the lid. "You were wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Yes," she said, smirking. "I use regular ranch now, not that fat-free crap."

He laughed, his tension easing a bit. "Good to know."

Isabella ate her lasagna when it arrived a few minutes later, while Edward just picked at his, pushing it around the plate and taking only enough bites to make it seem like he was interested in eating. His appetite was nowhere to be found, and it didn't help that he could still feel the eyes boring into him from around the diner. It made him fidget, constant exasperated sighs escaping his lips as he tried to ignore what he knew was contempt. The whole time they sat there, he imagined the things they were thinking about him, about _them_…

"Ignore it," Isabella said, as if she could read his mind. He glanced up from his plate, meeting her eyes. Neither had said much since the food arrived.

"What?"

"The way they're acting toward you… the way they're looking at you," she said. "Just ignore it."

He shifted in his seat as he lay down his fork. "I didn't think you noticed."

"Well, I did, but I ignored it," she said. "They don't know you."

He laughed dryly. "Neither do you."

"True," she said, "which means I have no right to judge you."

"They know enough," he mumbled. _Just enough to fucking condemn me._

"Yeah, well, they should know _better_, too," she said, her voice suddenly strikingly loud, echoing through the stone silent diner. Edward's eyes widened as he looked at her, surprised by her hard tone. "It's not nice to treat a visitor so rudely. This town prides itself on hospitality."

Edward managed a smile at her words. It was nice of her to speak up, to want to say something in his defense, but he knew it was pointless. "I'm not a visitor. I'm the black sheep of Forks, the one they hoped would never show back up."

Before she could respond, a ringing echoed through the diner as Edward's pocket started vibrating. He jumped a bit, startled, and pulled his cell phone out. He glanced at the screen, staring at the flashing name: Tanya.

He'd called her almost forty-eight hours ago and she was just now calling him back.

His finger hovered over the answer button as he glanced at Isabella. "I have to take this. Excuse me for a second."

Standing up, he pressed the button to answer it as he darted for the door, slipping outside to find some privacy. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby!"

The sound of Tanya's cheerful voice brought less relief than he'd expected. His tension remained. "Hey, took you long enough to return my call."

"Oh, hush," she said, brushing him off. "It's been chaos here. I've been so busy with Garrett down at the club. You know, getting things ready."

Thoughts of Chicago and the club invaded his mind then, nearly overriding thoughts of Isabella. He had so much waiting for him back home, so much to do. "How's it all going?"

"It's going good," she replied. "They said it should be ready to launch on time next month, so everything's going as planned."

"Good," he replied. "I should probably be heading back soon to help out."

"Nonsense," Tanya said. "Garrett and I have it handled."

Something about those words rubbed Edward the wrong way, his tension growing a bit. He wasn't sure if Tanya sensed it, but she quickly continued. "I miss you, of course, and can't wait until you come back home, but don't rush because of the club. You take all the time you need, baby."

"There's work, too," he muttered. "My bartending gig isn't going to be there if I don't come back soon. They'll only hold it for so long."

"We'll be fine," Tanya insisted. "We have my paycheck now, too, Edward. It's why Garrett hired me."

"Yes, but…"

"God, would you stop stressing so much?" she said. "Chill out. There's always a 'but' with you."

Her brusque tone silenced him for a moment. "Whatever, T."

"Look, I'm just saying, there's no reason to hurry," Tanya said. "We'll be here."

"Yeah, okay."

There was some rustling in the background, followed by the sound of laughter Edward recognized as Garrett's. A dog's bark overpowered it after a moment. He shook his head. Even over the phone, Leah's barking annoyed the fuck out of him.

"I should get going," Edward said. "I was in the middle of something."

"Okay," she said. "I just wanted to check on you anyway."

"I'm fine," he said. "I'll call you later."

"Good. Love you."

"You, too."

He hung up and slipped the phone in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he stepped back inside the diner. The people hardly gave him a look this time, purposely avoiding his gaze. It seemed their intimidation tactics hadn't worked, so they'd resorted to pretending like he didn't exist.

That is, except for Angie. Her eyes followed him, hatred still gleaming from them.

He slid back in the booth across from Isabella. "Sorry about that, Bella."

"Bella."

He glanced at her curiously as she repeated her name. "Yeah. Bella."

Her smile grew a bit. "It's weird hearing that. No one calls me it."

"Really?" he asked. "We used to call you it all the time."

"It's nice," she said. "Familiar. I mean, I don't really remember it or anything, but it feels right. _Bella_."

"Bella," he said again.

"Well, since you know Bella, why don't you tell me about her," she suggested.

Edward hesitated for a moment, grabbing his glass of chocolate milk and taking a sip. "Bella loved chocolate milk."

"She still does."

"She was clumsy."

"She still is," Isabella said. "I thought we established that earlier when she nearly fell."

He chuckled. "True."

"So tell me something about Bella that you don't think I would know."

Edward suddenly became extremely fixated on his drink as he scoured his mind for what to say. He could feel eyes on him again, but this time the brunt of it came from directly across the booth. "Bella had a small birthmark on the top of her right inner thigh that was shaped like a heart."

"She still has it."

"Yeah, but Bella loved when I traced it with my tongue before..."

It felt like the air was sucked from the room as Isabella let out a little gasp of surprise when she realized what he was about to say, and Edward suddenly regretted his choice of words. He trailed off and closed his eyes, shaking his head. _Fucking idiot._

Bella's voice was barely a whisper as she responded. "I'm sure she'd still love it."

He laughed under his breath and reopened his eyes. "Not if she really knew me. She'd regret ever giving me the time of day."

"I doubt that," she replied. "If you were the love of her life like everyone claims, she'd never regret anything that happened with you."

"Now _you're_ wrong," Edward said, his voice flat. "She might've loved me, but she disappeared before she ever realized how bad I was for her."

"But she came back."

"No, she didn't," he said. "_You_ came back. My Bella disappeared while I stupidly sat in my yard, counting to a hundred, and she was never found again."

Isabella's expression was guarded, full of confusion. "Then who am I?"

"You're the girl who knows how bad I was for her," he replied. "The girl who knows I destroyed Bella."

"How do you know I know those things?"

He waved his hand toward the waitress as she approached. "Because the people in this town wouldn't have been shy about telling you who was to blame for everything."

Angie must've heard his response, because she paused a few feet from the table. She seemed to contemplate for a moment before turning right back around and walking away, not addressing them. Isabella sighed, watching the waitress, and turned her focus back on Edward.

"Just because they say it doesn't mean I believe it," she replied. "I may have memory problems, but I'm nobody's puppet. I have my own opinions."

"Yet you believe them when they say I was the love of your love."

"I never said I believed that." Her eyebrows rose in challenge. "I merely said that's what they claim."

He blinked a few times, those words striking him hard, like a fist to the gut. "You don't believe it?"

"I didn't say that either."

"Then what do you believe?"

"I'm not sure."

An exasperated sigh poured from his lips. They were getting nowhere with the conversation. "You know what I believe, Bella?"

"What?"

"I believe forgetting me was probably the best thing that ever happened to you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Reaching into it, he grabbed a few bills and tossed them on the table, not waiting on a bill from the waitress. Before she could even react, he stood up and nodded slightly. "And maybe it's best you don't try to remember."

He didn't look at anyone as he strode right for the door, the bell dinging as he made his escape. He turned and started down the block, making it only a few feet when a subtle ding rang out behind him.

"I told you to take me."

Her voice trailed him, slowing his footsteps.

"I told you, when you found me, you could take me."

He came to a halt.

"I wanted to play hide and seek. I asked you to, and you didn't want to… you thought it was stupid… but you did it. For me. Because I wanted to."

Edward turned back around, gazing at Isabella. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody," she said. "I just know. I remember it, I guess. I recall bits and pieces, and I don't remember much about you, but I remember that."

Out of everything she could remember, she remembered something as trivial as that? Edward shook his head. The universe sure had a twisted fucking sense of humor.

"So I know you loved me," she continued. "I know that, because I remember it. I remember that moment. I remember your eyes when I asked you to find me. And I remember your eyes when you finally did find me… _you_. You found me."

"Jasper found you."

"Because of you," she said. "I'd be dead if not for you, Edward."

He shook his head. "No, Bella. You were almost dead _because_ of me."


	17. Chapter 16

AN: Sorry I didn't update before I left for comic-con. Chapter's unbeta'ed, as usual, so apologies for any errors.

* * *

**2001**

The thick air suffocated Edward, unspoken allegations and deep insinuations wrapping themselves around the words Chief Swan spoke.

_What I want is to know where the hell my daughter is._

Sighing, Edward looked away from the man, focusing his attention again on the lone piece of scraggly police tape tied to a tree nearby. "I do, too."

"Just… just tell me." A tinge of desperation laced the chief's voice now, a stark change from the outright anger a moment earlier. "Whatever it is, whatever happened… just tell me. Please. I have to know. I have to know what happened to her. I have to find her… I have to bring her home."

"I've told you before—I don't know where she is," Edward muttered. "I wish I fucking did, but I don't."

"Please, son." Chief Swan continued his pleading as if Edward hadn't spoken at all. "Just tell me. I have to know the truth. If something happened, if there was an accident… we'll deal with it. Just tell me the truth. Tell me what happened."

Edward shook his head, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know what happened."

The chief moved quickly then, snapping instantly and launching himself at Edward with no hesitation. Edward hadn't been prepared, barely catching sight of the movement in his peripheral before Chief Swan snatched ahold of him by his collar. He fisted the front of his shirt and yanked him off the porch, knocking beer cans from the step onto the ground. Edward stumbled, trying to get his footing, as the chief got straight in his face. His grip was so tight the collar of Edward's shirt hindered his ability to breathe. The tips of their noses nearly touched, rage flaring in the man's bloodshot eyes like molten lava. "Tell me!"

Every muscle in Edward's body grew rigid, defensive, as the chief viciously shook him, trying to force answers out. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest, and he refused to many any sudden movements, not wanting to set the man off any further. He remained silent, trying to keep his fear from showing, but it must've been obvious. The anger faded from Chief Swan's face as he glared into Edward's eyes, his grip slowly easing up.

They stood there for a moment longer, their eyes still locked, neither blinking, Edward hardly even breathing, before the chief finally let go. He gave Edward a small shove as he moved away from him. Edward stumbled a few steps but stayed upright, his eyes never leaving the chief as he ran his hands frantically down his face and muttered incoherently to himself.

When he turned his gaze back to Edward, tears swam in his eyes. The rage was once more long gone, replaced by sheer desperation. He was deep in the throes of grief, Edward realized, and had already moved through the denial and anger. Now he was pleading, begging, trying to bargain for her life.

All that was left was depression and acceptance.

"I'll give you whatever you want." The chief's voice was a gritty whisper as he fought to contain his tears. "Just please, give me my little girl back."

Edward just stared at him, dumbfounded. At that moment, he would've given up anything and everything to grant the man's request… to give him Isabella… but it was out of his hands. He was just as lost, just as in the dark as everyone else.

Blinking a few times, Edward flopped back down on the porch. "I wish I could."

Chief Swan didn't respond. After a few minutes of dead silence, Edward turned his focus back to the tattered yellow tape, and the man turned around and walked away.

* * *

"Have you been drinking?"

Edward stared at the ceiling in his dark bedroom, seeing but not seeing, hearing but not hearing. Voices and noises had echoed through the house for some time, but it was nothing he could make out. He felt like he was sinking, drifting further and further into a depression. Even the chief was losing hope.

Did that mean hope was really gone?

His father's question was the first clear thing to cut through the fog in hours, but he couldn't muster the energy to entertain him with an answer.

"Edward Anthony Cullen." Even while scolding him, there was a detachment in Carlisle's voice, a lack of emotion. Had he always sounded that way, Edward wondered? "There were beer cans on the front lawn when I got home. So I'll ask you again—have you been drinking?"

Closing his eyes, Edward sighed exasperatedly. He knew his father wouldn't go away if he ignored him. He blindly tinkered with the calculator lying on his bare chest, haphazardly pressing buttons in the darkness. "Yes."

It was obviously the answer Carlisle expected (after all, who the hell else would've been drinking Bud Light on the front porch?) but he let out a groan of aggravation anyway. His footsteps methodically hit the floor as he approached the bed, and Edward reopened his eyes when he felt his father sit down beside him.

"Sit up," Carlisle insisted.

Edward hesitated for only a few seconds before obeying his father. He sat up, still clutching the calculator, but didn't meet Carlisle's eyes. Instead of staring at the ceiling, he stared at his desk across the room, faintly making out the picture frame on the corner. Immediately, his vision blurred with tears at the sight of Isabella's face. Unable to take it, he looked away, his gaze fixing on the barren floor.

"This is unhealthy," Carlisle said. "The moping, the wallowing… it's counterproductive."

"It's only been three weeks," Edward ground out. Why couldn't his father understand?

"I know, but Edward, it may be another three weeks, or three months, or three years before she found. For that matter, she may never be found."

Although he knew it was true, the words were like a slap to the face. Edward visibly flinched, gripping tighter to the calculator that he may never get a chance to return.

"You can't just put your life on hold," Carlisle continued, ignoring his son's painful reaction. "You have to think about you, Edward. You still have a future, and you can't just throw it away because of her."

Edward flinched again, this time more from anger than pain. A bitter, angry laugh involuntarily echoed from his chest, the harsh sound even giving him chills. "Throwing my life away… that's what you always said about her. Me being with her was throwing my life away."

"You have so much potential," Carlisle continued, not denying it in any way. From the moment Edward had introduced Isabella to his parents as his girlfriend, his father had acted maddened by their relationship.

"If you'd just open your eyes and see, this is almost a bless—"

"Don't you fucking say it," Edward spat, the rage in his voice silencing Carlisle mid-word. "Don't you dare say this is a blessing. Don't you… Jesus Christ, don't even think that!"

"I'm not saying that," he said. "Well, that's not what I mean, anyway. I'm just saying that when one door closes, another opens. Don't be blind to the other door, son."

"Cut the Master Yoda holier-than-thou shit," Edward spat. "The first door isn't closed. We don't know what happened to her. We don't know where she is, or if she's okay."

"Maybe not," Carlisle said, "but we do know one thing… she's not coming back. Not to you, at least."

Edward narrowed his eyes, anger and suspicion brewing inside of him. Did his father know something he didn't? "How can you say that? How can you know that?"

Carlisle sighed and remained quiet for a moment. "I ran into Charlie today."

"Yeah, and?" The chief hadn't known anything when he'd visited, that much was clear.

"Even if she showed back up tomorrow, son, it's easy to see, just looking at Charlie, that he'll never again let you within a hundred feet of his daughter. He hadn't wanted you together from the very beginning, and this? Well, this just proved exactly why."

"This wasn't by fault."

"You can think that all you want, Edward, but it doesn't change the facts."

"What facts?"

Carlisle shook his head and stood up. "No more drinking. Get your act together and think about the future for a change."

Edward gaped at his father as he strolled out of the room. Bitter rage simmered under his skin, those words only setting him more on edge. Everything was coming to a head inside of him, his fear and pain, the desperation and lack of hope, taking a toll on his body and mind. Watching his father turn away, watching him walk out, so casual and calm, made a part of Edward snap. A scream tore from his throat, raw and painful, as tears flowed from his eyes. Without thinking, he reached his arm back and threw the calculator across the room with every ounce of strength he could muster. It hit the wall with a bang before dropping hard to the floor, cracking on impact.

* * *

AN: Another chapter will go up in the morning. You know, since I made you wait so long.


	18. Chapter 17

AN: People have asked how long this will be. Anyone who knows me knows I don't work off of an outline, but I'm estimating we're a little over halfway through.

Unbeta'ed as usual. There are probably mistakes. Forgive me.

* * *

**2013**

The police cruiser was parked crookedly in the motel parking lot, angled at the door to the front desk on the far end of the building. Edward stared at it as he approached in the darkness, relief washing through him. The sooner he got the keys to the rental car from Officer Biers, the sooner he could get the hell out of Forks again. He'd spent all day just wandering around, trying to avoid anywhere someone may recognize him. He'd been too wound tight to head back to his room, knowing his family could easily find him there.

And the last thing he wanted was to deal with people again today.

He approached slowly, strolling through the parking lot, but his feet stalled when he reached the building. The front door opened, a man stepping halfway out, his back to Edward as he addressed the clerk.

"If you see her, let me know, alright?"

_Definitely not Officer Biers._

Chief Swan's voice made Edward's stomach twist. Panicked, he dodged around the side of the building, hiding out of view just in time.

"I certainly will," the clerk said. "Have a good night, chief."

"You, too."

Edward remained frozen, pressed against the side of the dingy motel, as the police cruiser started up. He closed his eyes, listening to the tires against the gravel as it slowly pulled away. _Another close call_.

"Ahem."

Edward's eyes shot back open as the throat dramatically cleared, startlingly close. The motel clerk greeted him with a glare, lingering at the corner.

"I was, uh…" Edward didn't know what to say. 'Just hiding from the police' sounded all sorts of fucking wrong.

"You can come out now," he grumbled, not waiting for Edward to stammer through an explanation anyway. "Chief's gone."

"Thanks," he muttered, shaking his head. It was absurd. He was doing nothing wrong, so why the fuck did he feel like a criminal having to sneak around? Yeah, he _definitely_ needed to get out of Forks. "Did anyone stop by for me today? My keys were—"

"Yeah." The clerk cut him off, his response curt.

"Yeah… so you have my keys?"

"No."

"No?"

"Up in your room."

Edward's brow furrowed. "In my room?"

"What are you, deaf? That's what I said, ain't it?"

The slight anger in his voice startled Edward. He knew the man didn't like him—not many people in town seemed to—but the outright hostility he couldn't understand. "Whatever."

He turned to leave when the clerk's sharp bitter laugh hit him. "You ought to thank me. I coulda told the chief, but I didn't."

"That I'm here?" Edward shook his head. "I'd be surprised if he didn't already know I was in town."

"That ain't what I'm talking about and you know it."

Edward glared at the man as he headed back inside, grumbling angrily under his breath. No, he didn't know what he was talking about, but it was clear the man wasn't going to go any further with the conversation. Frustrated, Edward headed along the front of the motel, straight to his room. He pulled out the key and shoved open the door, stepping inside. He glanced across the room, shock hitting him like a freight train to the chest. An involuntary gasp escaped as he blinked a few times.

_Oh fuck._

He got it then. He knew precisely what the man meant.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Edward ground out, shutting the door behind him as he gaped at Isabella sitting nonchalantly on the edge of the rumpled, unmade bed.

Smiling guiltily, she held up her hand, a lone car key dangling from it. "This is yours, isn't it? Riley said it was."

"Yes," he said, walking over and taking it from her. "But that doesn't answer my question. Why are _you_ here?"

Her smile quickly faded at the sharpness in his voice. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but it was obvious by her wounded expression that he'd come off angry.

"I just thought we could talk."

"We already talked," he responded. "We decided you'd go on forgetting about me and be better off for it."

"No, _you_ decided that," she said. "I'm not so sure myself."

Sighing, Edward ran his hands down his face, flustered. "Look, you're not making this easy on me."

"Easy on you?" she retorted. "Is that what you care about? Who cares if it's been hard on me for years, right? You leave, taking all of my answers with you, and now that you're here again, you won't give them to me because it's easier on you not to?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what's it like?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "Because that's how it seems."

"You're better off—"

"Oh, you sound just like my damn father." She stood up abruptly, stopping him mid-sentence. "Everyone knows what's best for me. Everyone treats me like I'm still that sixteen-year-old girl, but I'm not."

"You are," Edward argued. "To me, anyway. I don't know you any other way."

"Yeah, well, I don't know you _at all_," she spat. "The little things I remember? Well, it's not the person I see today."

She stood up to storm out, brushing past him and grabbing the doorknob. She flung the door open and stepped outside, her antagonism eliciting a frustrated groan from him. "Bella, wait."

She faltered, glancing back, her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Look, I just… I don't know what you expect me to tell you. I don't understand what you want to hear."

"The truth."

He laughed dryly. "You know the truth. You know it better than any of us. It's one of the few things I _know_ you remember. I was there that day when you… when you told the story."

"I know," she whispered. "I saw you. It was the last time I ever saw you."

It had been. He hadn't been able to face her after that day. He hadn't been able to face any of them, for that matter.

"Then what truth do you want?" he asked quietly, walking over and plopping down on the bed.

She hesitated for a moment before turning back around and stepping into the room. "The truth about _you_."

The truth about him… Edward almost laughed at that. "There's not much to say. I was reckless and stupid, too damn blind to see what was right in front of me, and you're the one who suffered because of it."

"It wasn't your fault."

This time, he did laugh, his father's words from long ago still lingering in his memory: _You can think that all you want, but it doesn't change the facts_.

He said nothing in response. What could he say? It had been his fault.

"Tell me about us," she said softly, sitting down beside him, a mere few inches of space between them. She'd left the door wide open, a soft night breeze blowing through the room, carrying her scent straight toward him. _Tommy Girl_. She still wore the same fucking perfume.

"I bought you a bottle of perfume once," he said. "Your father wouldn't buy you that kind of stuff… perfume, makeup… he said you were still too young. He didn't want his little girl to grow up. But you wanted some perfume, so I took you to the store. You sprayed about twenty of the tester bottles, and we both walked out smelling like we bathed in the shit, before you finally picked Tommy Girl."

Her eyes widened. "That's what I wear now."

"I know. I smell it on you."

"That's just… wow. I didn't realize…"

"You're still that same girl in some ways," he said. "But me? Not so much. I gave up being that person a long time ago."

"Why?"

Why? The answer was so obvious, but yet Edward couldn't seem to get the words to form. It was hard to admit he'd lost all hope back then… hope for her, hope for him, hope for _them_.

"Your father dumped out that perfume I bought, you know," he said, switching the subject back instead of answering. "He said no daughter of his was going to smell like a French whore for a boy. Blamed me, of course. I ended up having to buy you another bottle. You kept it at my house and only wore it when you wouldn't be around him. I remember my pillows smelled like it for a long time after you… were gone."

"Your pillows?"

"Yeah, from when we… well… you know…"

He let out an awkward laugh at her stunned expression.

"Oh." A slight flush coated her cheeks. "Were we together, you know, a lot?"

He nodded slowly. "I was your first."

"My only," she elaborated.

He stared at her with surprise. "You haven't, uh, seen anyone?"

"Oh, I've seen guys," she said, "just nobody I felt close enough to really be with. It's hard to trust anyone after what happened. I'm always suspicious."

"Yet you're here with me," he said. "Alone."

"True," she said. "There's just something about you, though. I can't really say what it is. It feels like I've known you forever."

They both laughed at the absurdity of her words, but another memory assaulted Edward, one he knew she wouldn't recall.

_"Do you believe in soul mates?" Isabella asked, wrapping her arms around Edward, her voice a mere soft whisper. They lay in his bed together, both stark naked, bright afternoon sunshine streaming in the windows upon them. He could see every inch of her flesh, every curve of her petite body, coated in sweat._ So goddamn beautiful_._

_"I don't know," he responded, gently stroking her side. He'd never given it much thought, honestly. "Maybe."_

_"It's just, there's something about you," she said, staring up at him, their bodies still entwined. Her deep brown eyes shimmered, love shining from them. "Maybe it's dumb, but I feel like I've known you forever."_

_He smiled softly. "Maybe you have."_

_"Maybe," she agreed. "Maybe we knew each other another lifetime ago. But then again, if you don't believe in soul mates, I doubt you believe in reincarnation."_

_He laughed. "I don't know what I believe in, Bella, except for you."_

_"Me?"_

_"Yes, you," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "I believe in you."_

_"I'm serious," she said, nudging him. "Do you think it's possible?"_

_"Anything's possible, I guess, but I think I just dazzled you and somehow convinced you I'm the one for you. Wore you down until you gave in."_

_"I don't believe that," she said, laughing. "I think we were always meant to be."_

"We knew each other once before," Edward said quietly as he let out a sigh. "It was a lifetime ago, but we knew each other then. That's all it is."

Isabella's eyes narrowed inquisitively as she seemed to study him. The deep brown twinkled in the moonlight, making his chest ache. "I don't believe you."

He shook his head. "You never did."

Before she could say anything more, the ringing of a cell phone broke the silence of the room. She tensed for a fraction of a second before pulling it from her pocket. Glancing at the screen, she silenced it. "I have to get going before he puts an APB out on me."

_Chief Swan._ Edward smiled sympathetically. "I take it he's unaware you're here."

"Yeah, but it's really none of his business."

Edward recalled the words the chief had spoken to the clerk not long ago. He may not have _known_ she was there, but he certainly suspected it. "Something tells me he'd disagree."

"Of course." She stood up and took a few steps toward the door, pausing briefly to peer back at him. "Can we talk again? Later?"

"I, uh…" _I'm leaving town._ The words were on the tip of his tongue, but her phone ringing again silenced him. She didn't even bother to pull it out, merely rolling her eyes before turning back around to leave.

"Tomorrow," she said quickly. "I'll catch up with you tomorrow, okay?"

He glanced at his car key, gripped firmly in his palm, and sighed. "Yeah, okay."

* * *

Under the cloak of darkness, Edward slipped across town, heading straight for his aunt's place. The house was black when he arrived, not a single light shining inside the place. It was close to midnight, so he wasn't surprised, but he did feel a tinge of relief at the absolute stillness. He wanted nothing more than to grab his car and slip back away undetected.

He pressed the button on the key fob to unlock it, cringing as the headlights lit up, breaking the darkness by illuminating half the fucking neighborhood. Cursing, he opened the driver's side door and started to climb in when someone called his name. "Edward!"

He turned, glancing in the direction of the voice, and shook his head when he saw Alice lurking on the porch of the house. "Alice."

"Trying to sneak away?"

"I thought everyone was asleep," he said as she stepped off the porch and strolled toward him.

"Of course you did," she replied, raising an eyebrow as she smiled knowingly. "It's why you waited until now to come."

"So, what, you were waiting on me?" he asked, knowing damn well she had been. He should've known he wouldn't escape that easily. She'd done the same thing the last time he fled from Forks. "That's a little stalkery, don't you think?"

"Are you going to take out a restraining order?" she joked. "I'd love to see that… you walking into the police station to file a report. It would be like Christmas morning for the chief."

He shook his head at her mocking. "Yeah, I'll pass."

"So you're leaving?" she asked. "Going back to Chicago?"

He hesitated. "Not tonight."

"When?"

"I'm not sure." He paused, still standing there, clutching the door of the car. After a moment, he stepped back and shut the door, strolling around toward her. "Do you ever try to talk to her, Alice?"

Her eyes widened at the shift in subject. "Isabella?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "I tried to at the beginning, but I think I scared her more than anything. Jasper told me it was best to just back off, so I did. She'd been through enough."

Edward figured as much, but he was surprised his cousin showed so much restraint. Alice wasn't typically one to keep her distance or respect boundaries. She was always full-steam ahead.

Sighing, Edward moved past her and walked over, plopping down on the porch of the house. Alice followed him, sitting beside him on the step. "I talked to her today."

She gaped at him. "You did?"

"She knows who I am, but she wants to _know_ me," he muttered. "She wants answers, and I just don't think I'm the one to give them to her. So maybe you can—"

"Oh no, buddy," she said, cutting him off. "She's had almost ten years to get answers from me if she wanted them, but there's nothing I can tell her that she doesn't already know."

"Me, either."

"Oh, you're full of it," she said, pushing him.

"She knows what happened," he replied, his jaw tensing as he ground out the words. "She knows… she knows what he did. She _remembers_ what he did. Out of everything she can remember, she remembers _that_."

"Retrograde amnesia," Alice said. "Over a year of her life was washed out. She can recall some of it… and I heard she sometimes remembers little moments… but most is just a blur. And it probably always will be."

"It's not fair," he said. "Why couldn't she remember the good? Why'd she remember the bad?"

Alice was quiet for a moment. "It's good she remembered the bad."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Because if she hadn't remembered, he might've gotten away with it."

"Oh, no, he wouldn't have," Edward said matter-of-factly. "Because I figured it out, and one way or another, I would've made him pay for what he did."

* * *

AN: I'm sure some of you figured out who "he" is by now... the rest of you will find out soon, no worries. Thanks for sticking in there with me.


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